A fierce tendency to break free wrapped around my spine like a vine covered in sharp thorns. Stabbing me forward.
“Cell 138?” asked the guard brusquely.
“Here,” answered the prisoner wearily, holding her stomach in hunger. At this time food was scarce, a small portion of rice was the best food she had had in days. “I must leave, I didnt even commit the crime I was framed for,” she thought out loud, replete with despair and hopelessness.
As darkness crept in, she carefully slipped through the bars. Her face turned as pale as a porcelain doll.
“Where are you going?” questioned a man in a black cloak…