Your head is already pounding from the previous beatings you endured, and a ringing phone is doing nothing to soothe it. Annoyed and irritated, you stand up and kick the phone off the table. It jangles and clatters loudly across the floor, coming to rest at the feet of the guard, who picks it up. He smiles at your fierceness and backhands you across the face with the phone. You see blackness invading your vision as you slowly lose consciousness.
You wake up in almost complete darkness with a gnawing hunger in your stomach and an open wound on your face, throbbing and bleeding. You survey your surroundings and determine that you are in a 5 by 5 cell with a pile of straw and a bucket of horrible smelling glop.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 7:20pm on Nov 17, 2024 via server WEBX1.