Laurie took a deep breath. She'd counted eight meals marked by scratches to the wall, which meant eight days had passed in solitary confinement. Her fingers were rubbed raw and calloused from the constant friction as she dug out the wall.
She'd made a little headway having dug out a three-by-three section of the drywall and hard foam. She was slowly chipping away at the thick siding. She shoved the excess scraps of material beneath the bed and lined it up close to the wall.
Laurie had quickly settled into a daily routine of praying, alternating between digging and resting, lingering over the one meal provided, and showering and sleeping. She had plenty of time to reflect.
Her future felt so uncertain and fragile like it was balanced on a high rope. She felt close to death. Perhaps for
