Hope
The screaming starts as a low-pitched wail that gets sharper.
It always starts the same way — faint at first, like wind slipping through cracks in the stone. But tonight, it’s closer. Louder.
My eyes snap open in the dark. My pulse hammers in my ears.
For weeks now, maybe months — I’ve lost track of time — that scream has haunted the night. At first, I thought it was a one-off. Then I realized it came from somewhere deep inside this place. Somewhere, the guards pretend not to hear.
But tonight, it sounds different.
It sounds near.
Like I could reach out my hand and touch her.
I push the silken blankets off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The room is bathed in ghostly moonlight that filters through the barred window. The air smells faintly of perfume and polished wo
