bored

Samantha

The bed was stale. As was the air.

There were no windows. There was a single torch. Occasionally, it went out, and she was in complete darkness.

It was a holding cell. There were three more like it in the room, but she was the only one there. Every few hours, she’d be brought some oats, and some water, and her waste bin would be emptied and cleaned, and the torch may be relit. She worried about ventilation. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

She was also menstruating, which was annoying and painful. If she’d just left before taking the tests she didn’t care about, she could’ve been arrested without half-sitting on the bench, grabbing at nothing on the wall to steady herself and pissing blood. But then Vincent wouldn’t’ve written the list of things she should grab with him…

It wasn’t stupid. It was smart, and considerate. She wasn’t stupid.

She had been given her grades. She’d done fine. Not good enough to justify immediate graduation. Though, given the circumstances, it was moot.

They had given her no books. They had taken her clothes, she wore grey rags. There was a bed, and a waste bucket, and bars. 34 bars on her cell. It was in a corner, so there were 2 walls of bars, 2 walls of bricks.

Agarma would release her, it’d be fine.