Prison is exactly as awful anyone outside imagines it to be. Solitary confinement? That’s hell on earth. After three days in the hole, the guard comes over and opens the metal door, sending a fraction of light into the dark space. It must be from the moon because it’s late.
“Eritz, you’re out,” he orders as he knocks his wooden nightstick against the bars.
I get up off the floor and duck my head. The cell isn’t big enough for me to stand straight, and my muscles protest at being cramped for so long. Thankfully my stitches are still clean, and I’ve healed enough that I’m not worried about them tearing open.
Keeping my mouth shut, I move to the designated spot outside the cell and straighten my spine. It feels good, but I don’t let the emotion show. I don’t let anything show, ever.
The g
