Desina found herself sitting on the cold dungeon floor, shivering as she pondered her escape from the dark and frigid prison. Her thoughts raced, searching for a way out of the oppressive gloom that surrounded her.
Wrapped in her own arms, she whispered to herself, "I have to get out of here. I can't just lie here, feeling helpless." Desina's voice was barely audible, weak and tired from her ordeal.
She couldn't help but worry about her mother, wondering what she might be enduring while Desina languished in the dungeon. Desina knew that people from low-income backgrounds like hers often faced judgment and disrespect, especially from those who were wealthy or influential.
The chains around Desina's hands began to itch, causing her discomfort as she shook them in frustration. The noise of
