CHAPTER 27
Hannah kept her steps slow, but her pulse raced as she walked down the hall toward Simon’s cell. She had managed to avoid the assistant director for several days, but whenever she passed his office, the skin on the back of her neck still tingled. She stayed as busy as always, but her energy was gone. What difference did any of her work make? Nearly all the patients she cared for died anyway. A weariness hung over her, a heavy mist no amount of prayers or good deeds could lift.
Even the prospect of visiting Simon again left her heavy and cold as she rounded the last corner of the hallway. Before the cells came into view, she heard the sound of prisoners, their bodies shuffling, their bare feet pacing, dozens of men breathing, breathing in spite of the squalor, in spite of the s
