Trapped

Silence

Enter: Mina West
June 15, 2027, 12:01
Saint Mansfield, Entering Terminal

An unbearable silence fell on deaf ears as I neared the entrance to the facility. It was dark and had a terrible stench. The guard had said to the warden that they were taking me to Terminal F.

I shuddered. I didn't like the guards too much because they gripped on me unnecessarily tight and jerked me around endless corners harder than they should have.

I didn't like humans.

Not one bit.

I was told, harshly might I add, that I had to undress out of everything and into the baggy, ill-fitting uniform that had given me. As we turned another corner, one of the guards stopped and smiled at me. But it wasn't a warm and welcoming smile.

It was a the kind of smile that was bitter and twisted up into more of a grimace. It was the same sick, sad smile I had made that cruel day.

He looked at me in silence, until the other one decided to speak up.

"You're scum, you know that? Setting fire to other people and then yourself? Doesn't seem right to me."

"They let her out easy, isn't that right Dan? Should have just taken this looney bird and burned her on a stake.", the other guard spat.

"The only woman of her kind at Saint Mansfield, huh. Well, let me tell you something. You are no lady. You are a crazed slut, a waste of space. A prostitute. You are not a lady here, you are my bitch here."

"Jim, I don't suppose they'll believe it if it says we had done something to it, don't you think?"

He shook his head and chuckled," I don't think so."

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Enter: Harry Styles
June 15, 2027, 12:01
Saint Mansfield, Bunking Ward, Terminal F

It was dark in my cell as I woke up from an intense hot flash. They kept the cells extremely hot at night during the summer and kept it freezingly cold in the winter.

I hit my head on the bunk above me as I jerked up, panting. I was fairly tall and the bunks were of short height, to my great disadvantage.

"Shit!", I winced in pain and reached to touch my head. I had drawn blood this time on the stony bed above me.

I cursed under my breath as I took of my shirt and ripped off just enough to press onto the bruise and tie off the cloth, just under my chin.

The room tilted sideways and the dim light in the distant hallway had dimmed. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It took me a while to understand that I was blacking out again.

I never liked it when I blacked out. Never.

Shortly, after I had murdered my terrible father, I had started blacking out.

My head would spin and the room would seem to tilt. I would he dizzy, half drowsy and feel like vomiting.

Then it would all go black.