Twenty-six years have passed, but I still have nightmares. I was only 16 years old when I was placed in solitary confinement for six long days in a small, windowless cell containing only a metal bunk, a toilet and a desk. In some of these nightmares I’m trapped in solitary confinement forever, suffocating from anxiety and fear of unending isolation. I usually can’t go back to sleep and my entire day is filled with anxiety until I can shake it off. Even as an adult, the impact of solitary confinement during the formative years of my youth still haunts me.

Because I was being tried as an adult, I was transferred from the local juvenile hall to the adult county jail. It had been over a year since my arrest and I didn’t know when I was going to be free again. I was scared, depressed and in survival mode most of the time. My worst days were spent being transported to the courtroom shackled and isolated in a tiny cage, waiting to be summoned into trial.

One day after court, I got into a fight with another young kid inside of our unit. We both had decided to use our fists in response to words that dug into our emotional wounds and broken identities. We were thrown into solitary confinement as punishment. I will never forget what it felt like to be isolated in such a small space without knowing when I would be released.

Upon entry to the solitary confinement cell, you see a stainless steel toilet and a bunk layered with a thin mattress and a desk with hardly any room for anything else. The cell was always cold with dim lighting, and all I had to wear was a pair of socks, underwear, and a shirt. The only way out was through a locked door with two slots covered by metal. The slots on the door were used by the sheriffs for security measures such as restraining us with handcuffs before opening the door and to feed us with food on trays or in a cup. The only connection to other humans was through a vent to other solitary confinement cells.

While in solitary I felt abandoned by the entire world with no one to talk to about my thoughts and emotions. I was living through what we now know as an adverse childhood experience, or ACE. Experts say that some of the impacts of ACEs are trust issues, fear of abandonment and difficulty expressing emotions resulting from disrupted attachment. At a time when I was being held accountable and needed guidance and conversation with other people who could help me, I was instead met with violence, punishment and isolation. This experience scarred me forever.

The use of solitary confinement on children and placing them in adult correctional facilities is a violation of international human rights law. Yet here in Maryland it happens with shocking regularity. Anywhere between 35 and 40 children are held in adult jails on any given day in Maryland. Many of them are held in solitary confinement as federal law prohibits children from having direct contact with older adult prisoners as a precaution meant to protect them from physical and sexual abuse. Such conditions of confinement come with a hefty price. Children held in adult jails are five times more likely to be assaulted and nine times more likely to die of suicide than those held in facilities for children. We’ve become shockingly apathetic to what happens to children who’ve been placed in the custody of the government.

This type of indifference to children’s humanity led to the deaths of Kalief Browder in New York and Kayelyn Drake in Mississippi. As a 16-year-old, Kalief was held in solitary confinement for two years while awaiting trial at New York’s infamous Rikers Island jail. He killed himself two years after his release. Just last year, 16-year-old Kayelyn committed suicide after being detained in an adult jail following her arrest.

The deaths of Kalief and Kayelyn should make us ask an important question — will lawmakers in Annapolis act in time to prevent a similar tragedy? Or will we be naming a law in honor of a Maryland child who also didn’t need to die?

Del. Sandy Bartlett and Sen. Sara Love are working tirelessly to make sure it is not the latter. They’ve introduced H.B. 1107 and S.B. 827, respectively, which would keep children out of adult jails and ban the practice of placing them in solitary confinement. Their efforts have attracted support from a diverse coalition of stakeholders, including the Maryland Chiefs of Police and Sheriffs Associations, the Maryland Association of Counties, the faith community and child rights advocates.

If the law enforcement community recognizes that adult jails and solitary confinement are no place for a child, the Maryland General Assembly should too by prioritizing the passage of this legislation.

If we miss this opportunity and a child dies from violence or suicide, lawmakers will have no one to blame but themselves. While they can choose to look the other way, they can never again say that they did not know.

Michael Mendoza (mmendoza@humanrightsforkids.org) is the CEO and founder of Human Rights for Kids, a Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit.