The Girl
25.5.14 by I.R.
I stood erect, with my back pressed against the far concrete wall of my prison cell. There was a sharp knock on the reinforced metal door of my prison cell. I winced. My heart began to palpitate and I felt a sudden dryness in my throat. The door began to slide open with a scraping noise that shook my ears and turned my stomach into jelly. A young girl not older than 11 walked into my cell. Her face was thin and sallowed and of ivory-white complexion. She had penetrating, soul-searched blue eyes - the most vivid I had ever seen. Her strawberry-blonde hair hung unravelled and extended to the tops of her shoulders. The outlines of her tiny breasts poked through the undersized neon-orange jumpsuit she seemed to contemptuously be wearing. She walked in with an assertiveness that shook my bones and buckled my knees.
"How come your eyes are so red?" She spoke.
"It's become hard to sleep." I jitteringly answered.
"'Cause you can't stop thinking 'bout what you did?"
"Uh-huh."
"You can't change the past, mister. Even I know that much 'bout this life."
"Uh-huh"
"How 'bout we share beds tonight, mister? Let's try and get you some rest."
