Ghost boy by Martin Pistorius

I read that book, you should read it too. Check it out:
They all thought he was gone. But he was alive and trapped inside his own body for ten years. In January 1988 Martin Pistorius, age twelve, fell inexplicably sick. First he lost his voice and stopped eating. Then he slept constantly and shunned human contact. Doctors were mystified. Within eighteen months he was mute and wheelchair bound. Martin's parents were told an unknown degenerative disease left him with the mind of a baby and less than two years to live. Martin was moved to care centers for severely disabled children. The stress and heartache shook his parents' marriage and their family to the core. Their boy was gone. Or so they thought. Ghost Boy is the heart-wrenching story of one boy's return to life through the power of love and faith. In these pages, readers see a parent's resilience, the consequences of misdiagnosis, abuse at the hands of cruel caretakers, and the unthinkable duration of Martin's mental alertness betrayed by his lifeless body. We also see a life reclaimed, a business created, a new love kindled - all from a wheelchair. Martin's emergence from his own darkness invites us to celebrate our own lives and fight for a better life for others.


Ghost Boy: The Miraculous Escape of a Misdiagnosed Boy Trapped Inside His Own Body

The closest place to jahanom.

No plants. No wind. No sky. No animals. No grass. No colors. No emotions. No bottles. No naturally running water. No moon. No bugs. No dirt. No rain. No sun. No human affections. No birds. No women. No silence. No stars. No music (other than radio). No glass. No utensils. No rights. No electric appliances. No choice. No outside air. No privacy. No internet. No cellphones.
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24/7 constant defense mode. concrete. anger. bad food. steel. plastic. frustrated men. steel made "beds".
thin mattresses. brown clothes, sheets, blankets. open showers. constant noise. locks. careless, mean or ignorant soharim. handcuffs. rules. chains. steel bars. leg-cuffs. shouts. neon lights. control. laws. strip searches. surveillance cameras.

The closest place to jahanom.

The eyes of a murderer

It is hard to fully understand the place I am in. So I'll just tell you about one afternoon chat, took place minutes ago, with two other inmates.
It was a fully detailed chat about murder related to gangs. By "detailed" I mean details about how exactly the tong and eyes where cut. How blood was flowing. Every detail fully described. At a low voice, with a hint of a smile.

 

You never looked in the eyes of a real murderer. I already did, more than I can count. There is death in them, it's not like in the films. You look in them and you see something different.
They could be really nice and quiet, talking with a nice smile. Low voice. Graphic details. As if reading a story out of a book. No feelings.

 

There is no chance of going through this place and stay as before. You can never erase the feeling of being with, hugging, talking to someone who is capable of killing like you go shopping.
And that's just the tip of the ice. Just one man. one story. Half an hour in one day's afternoon.

 

People think there is too much violence on TV and movies. It's nothing but a joke. Reality is much more than what you can expect.