Deck of Cards

Day 6- Jen

Nine of spades- starvation all day

Jen's POV

I woke up more broken than any other time in that cell, the day before had completely wrecked me. I never thought that I would have to do that; in my life I promised that I would only sleep with people I loved. That man was somebody I hated. It was difficult to not slap him away but I was too afraid of the consequences.

With a crinkle of my nose, I turned over my card. Six of spades. I was beginning to think that there were just lots of spades at the start to break our spirits. My guard  prowled down the corridor as he liked to do, always donning a malicious smirk. Somehow I had grown to accept him, it was strangely comforting to have some one come to your cell daily despite him being a pig. I would have gone mad if I was isolated from any kind of human contact.

"Starvation all day," he grumbled in a horse voice, showing signs of a long night that he had.

Starvation. I didn't understand how that could work. In a day you couldn't starve, especially not in our conditions where we had been eating prior. I thought that it was some kind of joke. To my surprise, I was led out my cell, and down the corridors I had grown accustomed to. I ran my hands across the bumps and cracks in the wall, imagining that I was walking through a castle.

I was led into what looked like a chamber with a table in front of it. I immediately knew what was going to happen. All of a sudden it didn't seem so silly. They would put food out in front of me and then I would have to resist eating it. I figured that the consequences of eating would be grim and possibly fatal.

I was strapped into the torture chair as I called it, iron clasps surrounding my legs but not my arms so I could reach and grab food. In walked a man with gelled back hair wearing a knockoff Armani suit and in his hand he held a piece of paper. Coughing, he began to read the instructions,

"To Jenifer, this is your starvation activity. Food will be placed on the table in front of you, if you don't take it within thirty minutes it will be taken away and you will gain a new dish.If you do choose to eat the food, you will be shot in the head. Have fun!" He said the last bit sarcastically. This was going to be a long day.

I knew that I couldn't eat the food, I needed to survive. For myself. For my son. The first dish was a plate of muck that they gave us as 'food', no way was I even going to touch it let alone place it in my mouth. I knew I would have a lot of time to waste, so my mind drifted to my boy.

His tufts of dark hair that stuck out irregularly and his crystal blue eyes that glowed like a full moon on a stormy night. The way he tottered around on his unstable legs when he first learnt to walk, and how now he would run around at a great speed, constantly crashing into tables, chairs and people. Tears pricked my eyes as I reminisced old memories, his face a constant in my vision. Before I knew, it the next dish was being brought out- it was a bowl of crisps; I had craved them in my cell, the saltiness of them melting against my tongue. I won't give up so easily,I told myself.

Fish and chips, full roast dinner, curry and rice all passed me but I didn't give in to the rumbling of my stomach. Hunger ached inside of me but I never gave in. Never. Then the next dish was brought out- chicken noodle soup. My favourite food of all time, the one thing that comforted me at any time. My fingers stretched towards the bowl, just to taste the delicious food. I could smell it from my seat and I almost felt dizzy from craving it. But I had to be strong.

Think of your son, I told myself. I closed my eyes and imagined he was in the room with me and we were back home, he was carrying around his stuffed toy whilst exploring. I imagined that he was making random noises; they were nonsense to me but to him they were a language. I let myself relish in the happiness that I felt there, in that imaginary world. That happiness was more than any dish I could eat. I opened my eyes and stared intently at the bowl. No it couldn't defeat me.

My time was up before I knew and I was angrily dragged back to my cell; my guard was obviously upset about the lack of shooting. I sat that night in my room and stared at the wall. I needed a plan to escape. I needed to see my son again.

Quick authors note to anyone who is concerned where this story is going. No its not just going to be 52 accounts of days. Each character has a goal to achieve by the end of the process. These will be clearer later on in the story but because they've only been there for a week I'm just introducing the situation. Keep reading and real plots will take shape. :)