Winfred

16

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

It had been about two months since I was brought to the prison. When I started to have a hard time keeping track of time, I began to, with Jessica and Virginia, keep track of the days by scratching a tic mark into the wall in the back corner, next to a twelve, for December.

The tic marks added up until it was merely a week from Christmas. I remembered that I had been going to go home and see my family come Christmas time and fell into a deep depression. I felt hopeless; I believed that I would never see them again. 

Virginia and Jessica did their best to comfort me, but even their comfort was removed when a group of prisoners were transferred, more cells opened up, and we found ourselves parted.

The pain of torture almost felt good, in that it distracted me somewhat from my grief. I was convinced that I would never see the outside of these four walls again.

The week of Christmas came and Von Steubon was gone again. There were two days that we were not tortured, but spent the entire time in our cells. 

By the second day, I believed that I was truly going insane. I sat against the wall, curled up, counting the tic marks I had continued to make until they blurred together.

Pirot brought me my customary piece of stale bread and small glass of water at about midday. She must have noticed my strange mood, for she stared at me for a few moments, before turning abruptly and leaving.

I went back to counting the tic marks. Only a few moments had passed before Pirot was back, holding a brush. She sat on my cot and made me kneel before her.

She began to brush my hair, roughly as per usual, but brushing it nonetheless.

Pirot's act of kindness brought me somewhat back to myself, and I thanked her.

She simply nodded, leaving without a word. 

Pirot puzzles me.