Back

 I crouched down 

By Gabriella  



I crouched down in the corner of the room, my arms around my knees and ducked down. My face was wet where I'd been crying. I'd thought I was going to be brave so that I would show my prisoners they weren’t going to get to me. But I'd sorely failed. The minute they locked me in this prison, my resolve had crumbled and I'd broken down into tears. I scowled and banged my right fist on the wall, hoping someone would hear me. And then they would save me from this hellhole. Minutes of no response passed. So I banged harder. Silence continued to cloak me like stinking, old fur coat, and angry I slammed my fists against the wall even harder. I didn't even care if it caught the attention of my jailer; I just wanted to provoke a response, any kind of response at all. I kept on banging my fist on the wall until throbbing pain pulsed down my hand. Exhausted, I slumped down to the ground, baby tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and blurring my vision.

"Why did you have to do this to me?" I said as loud as I could, so that they could hear me. I wondered how long I was going to be before they would even think on checking up on me. Maybe I would be rotting, a pile of bones and decaying flesh.

I didn’t know how long I lay curled up on the floor. Maybe it was a few minutes, or an hour, or maybe a day. My head jerked up as I heard the prison door creak open and slow footsteps clumped into the room. It was my jailer. She looked down at me and laughed. I glared, despising her merriment at my pain.

“Come on Sophie stop being such a drama queen,” she said, “I only sent you to your room for 10 minutes, you can come down now.”

I leapt up and propelled myself to freedom.