The Crimes of Being Yourself

Chapter 1: Valerie

I feel a strong fist hit my jaw, and I fall to the cold hard ground. Once again they asked a question that I just don't know the answer to, and they punish me for it. I've gotten used to this by now, but their punches still hurt when they hit their mark. The other guard grabs my right arm and throws me hard against the wall that holds my bed. It's more like a concrete slab than a bed, but it's better than the floor. The two guards leave me and I just lay there staring at the wall besides me. It's no use watching the guards every move. I'm not going to try and escape, what would be the point. They would catch me anyway, and where would I go once I get out of this hell. When I first got here I used to try and fight back, but that never got me anywhere. I just got hit harder and more often. Then after about a year of rebelling I finally gave up. I gave up on telling myself I was my own person and had the right to escape, but they own me and I lost my right to do as I please. So now I try my hardest to do as they say, but I still can't tell them answers to things I don't know. They can't see it though, no matter how many times I tell them, they still believe I am hiding something. Though somehow I also feel as if I'm hiding something, I don't know what it is, but it's something big.

I lay on my bed for about an hour before Amalie comes with my food. Amalie is a prisoner like me, but she is only here because she just happened to be in Russia when the war started. So she is allowed to have a real room that she shares with a bunch on other girls and gets a real mattress instead of a concrete slab. All she has to do is cook, clean, and other household chores around here like most of the women imprisoned here.

"I gave you a little extra food to help you regain some of your strength, Valerie," Amelia says in her heavy British accent. I can tell she came from the United Kingdom's because of her speech and accent, but I never have the chance to ask her where she lived in the U.K. She will always leave right away after giving me my food so that she isn't caught. Amelia is very kind and always tries to give me a little extra food when she can.

After Amelia leaves I get up and eat all the food she left at the cell bars. The food isn't good at all, it's always been sour or stale, but I've gotten used to it by now. It's either eat the food that makes me want to barf or it's starve to death, which honestly wouldn't be that bad of an idea. Though I don't have the strength to end my awful life. I'm not strong enough to let go of the hope that is long since passed.

I finish the food and look around my rather small cell. There isn't much to it, there never has been. I have a bed which is more like a slab of concrete sticking out from the wall. I also have a toilet, mirror, desk, and chair. I look into the dirty mirror to see what I've become over the years. My ash-brown hair used to flow out in waves and shined in the sun, but now it's matted and dull from the dirt and dust. My eyes are a blueish-grey and once had a spark to them, but now they almost seem soulless. I had fair skin when I got here, but every time I look at myself it seems whiter. My clothes are filthy and ripped everywhere, my shirt used to be white before the dirt took over. They gave me the shirt after I grew out of the one I had on when I got here, and I have grey cotton shorts that are a bit too big.

When I first stayed in this cell there was no desk, but after they broke my spiret they put one in the cell. I use it to right on some paper that I also receive from them. Everyday I write to my family even though it will never ever be read by one of my family members.

Dear Family,

I miss you all so munch. I would do anything to be home right now. It's been so long; I've lost track to the days I've been here. I don't even know it it's day or night. Though life here isn't as bad as you probably think it is. I'm still alive, that must mean something. I get two meals a day and get to write with ink and paper. About a year after I arrived here and I started to do as they told me they gave me this privilege. They knew that if I lost all of my hope and spirit that I wouldn't last long, so they gave me something to cling to. It helps even if you never receive...