As her thoughts drifted, she rolled over.
The sleeping area in the detention center wasn't equipped with bunk beds. To eliminate any potential dangers from uncontrolled furnishings, the room was terrifyingly spartan.
It was just one large, communal sleeping platform for twelve people.
Everyone had only a fist's breadth of space between them and the inmate next to them. The slightest movement could disturb someone else.
Besides, in weather like this, you'd have to be a saint to get any sleep.
The entire cell block was quiet—so quiet you could hear every breath—but few were actually asleep.
Everyone was silently lost in their own thoughts, tormented by their present circumstances and uncertain about the future.
The not knowing was what made it torture. Would they be released, or would they receive a harsh sentence? This was especially true for those completely cut off from news of the outside world. For them, every minute, every second spent here felt as long as a century.
