Deck of Cards

Day 16- Jen

Queen of clubs- clothes making for seven hours

Jen's POV

It was another day, another space of time where I missed home and despised the whole entire world for somehow letting me fall into that position. They say everything happens for a reason, well what was my reason? Why did I have to suffer? I had lived my life in a way that would benefit me and my son. I had no shame, no dirty little secrets. Well maybe one.

My card was a Queen which meant clothes making? How would that be torture? I suppose I should have known already that it wasn't going to be just clothes making and there would be other aspects involved. It was a club suit, I didn't mind them but I didn't particularly like them. The worst was always spades.

My guard picked me up from my cell (not literally) and he just led me to my next doom. I think I heard him mutter 'I hate this one' which made me silently thank the gods because he loved all the violent ones. I was still confused about why we were clothes making in particular when we had already been chained up, shouted at and done a whole host of all things sinister.

When I entered the room, I saw two chairs and my heart dropped, at first I thought that a guard would be sat next to me doing something horrible. But then I saw the sewing machine infront of it and I realised that it would be another prisoner. Somebody to talk to. My head whizzed at the thought of a real conversation.

Sitting down I faced the sewing machine with evil eyes- textiles was my worst subject at school. I knew that it would be a disaster if I even touched the thing,hopefully my partner would teach me how to not kill myself with it. As if on cue, in walked this gorgeous supermodel of a girl. She looked amazing even with matted, dirty hair. I was taken aback by how stunning she was that I almost missed the smile she gave me. Quickly, I gave her a lopsided goofy one which made her laugh.

She sat next to me and looked forward with a glassy look in her eyes as if she had been there before. She stroked the sewing machine slowly and let out an exasperated sigh.

"You can't be in the game surely?" I asked her, she seemed too perfect to be tortured. I was sure that they couldn't look her in the face and send her off to get ruined. She seemed too beautiful.

"Yep," she said bitterly, obviously she hated the guards and the people just as much as I did.

It was explained to us that we would be making t-shirts and we had seven hours to make as many as we could, but they didn't stress any consequences. Basic skills they said. It looked like the most complicated thing in the world.

The girl next to me began like it was child's play to her; picking up the pre-cut pieces of fabric and placing them under the the sewing machine's needle. I stared in awe as she quickly joined the two pieces of fabric together.

"Need a hand?" She said kindly and I nodded enthusiastically. She laughed which sounded like birdsong and then showed me all the settings and how to work it. Her hands guided mine and soon I was staring at a complete garment.

"How do you know all this?" I asked in shock as I held a perfect T-shirt in front of me.

"I grew up sewing," she said almost as if it was bittersweet. I wanted to ask her why but she turned away. At first I thought it was because I had upset her but then I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. A guard had stuck a pin in me.

"STOP TALKING," he boomed in my ear and left me with a sharp pin in my arm. It drew a lot of blood and I think it went down to the muscle. I heard the other guards shout at him for hurting me when I still had five hours to go. Pain ripped through me like a tornado.

I didn't speak to the pretty girl again and got on with my work in fear that she would get the same consequence. That was one thing I was sure of. I would not bring people down with me. Her presence was enough to give me a bit of happiness; the knowledge that I had an ally was enough. I had a chance. In the form of a supermodel speed sewer.