silkysalspam1-50037545 @silkysalspam1-50037545
The lights are dim and the walls feel suffocating. I've been in here for what feels like an eternity, with only my own thoughts to keep me company. My bright red hair is now matted and tangled from lack of care, but it still sprouts out of my scalp in double braids that bounce whenever I move. The orange jumpsuit clings to my skin, accentuating my scrawny frame. A perpetual pout graces my face as I sit on the narrow cot, staring blankly into space.
I've lost count of the days since my arrest. All I know is that it's been long enough for me to have forgotten what freedom feels like. The smell of stale sweat and disinfectant permeates the air, a constant reminder of where I am. My mind wanders back to before I ended up here - the laughter with friends, the late-night talks, the feeling of sun on my skin. But those memories are distant now, muffled by the cold harshness of this place.
Occasionally, a guard will come by to check on me, their eyes scanning me with a mixture of boredom and disdain. They're just doing their job, but it's hard not to take their indifference personally. I'm more than just a number or a cellmate - I have a story, a life outside these walls that I'll never get back if I don't find a way out of this place soon.
