FICTION | Sheal Mullin Berube » The smell in here is overpowering. It permeates everything around me. It’s the smell of fear that coats another smell I can’t identify right away, with a sweet yet sickening odor. My eyes dart back and forth and I pant uncontrollably.
I’m in a small cell, a cell not even fit for a dog, in all honesty. My other cell mates howl and scream with indignation, screaming for freedom and howling their protests of innocence. No one listens, not even the man that put us here.
My family is gone, abandoning me to this hell hole. I don’t know what I did wrong for them to leave me in this sick and dank place. The only thing I’ve ever been guilty of is loving them unconditionally and thinking that love was mutual. The darkness is overwhelming and the urine and feces around me attach their stink to my body, suffocating me with the stench.
One of my cell mates cringes as a guard walks by with restraints in his hands. The guard pauses, looking at a clip board then at my cell mate. I scurry to the back of the cell, unsure why I’m so afraid but knowing I should be afraid. My cell mate cries out as the guard steps closer to the door and stares down at him.