With a clap of her hands, a line of women dressed in similar drab gowns file in. Hands pry the chains away from my neck and I'm led out. My arms are draped over the shoulders of two women weakly and I lean heavily on them, the tips of my toes dragging along stone floors.
We go down several flights of stairs with wrought iron rails, then out through a wide entrance. I wince against a burst of light, the sun overhead burning into the sore flesh around my neck. It dimly registers that people around my age start to trip out, summoned by some unspoken command. The women wear similar hideous dresses, the men garbed in shirts and pants of the same threadbare material.
They form a procession, marching down to what looks like a wide stream. They stand around the body of water, expressionless face
