‘There’s a hole in the floor,’ he added.
She could hear the water trickling down the space, then the realisation hit.That’s our toilet chamber.And if anything needed emptying, she would have to navigate the issue while standing. ‘Oh, this place just keeps getting better and better.’
‘Wait till you try to glug a bowl of cold porridge down in thirty seconds.’
‘What happens if I can’t?’
‘It’s meet and greet time with a baton.’ Bear’s sigh came through the wall. ‘Hurts more when you’re wet.’
‘Do you think all prisons are like this?’
‘They say Horstal is the worst. Perhaps designed that way to put off the young committing more crimes once released. But who knows? Adult prisons might be just as ruthless.’
And Scarlen used to think she had it bad locked away in one section of the palace. At least she got use of their private beach from time to time, and she could wander the corridors of her wing.
‘It’ll soon pass, Scars.’
Footsteps told them someone was approaching.
‘Breakfast,’ called the guard who had locked Scarlen in the cell. She placed a bowl of porridge on the flap as soon as she opened it. ‘And counting.’
Scarlen shuffled to raise her hands for the bowl. ‘There’s no spoon.’
‘Still counting, Smithson.’
Scarlen lifted it to her mouth, choking at once as slimy, large chunks of cold, clumped porridge hit the back of her throat. Gagging, she tried to swallow as the guard’s baton came into view. It wasn’t easy to eat and keep it down, but as the guard called time, Scarlen placed the empty bowl on the flap.
The guard grinned. ‘You get used to it.’
‘I might throw up.’
‘You might, but it won’t be pleasant for you in there with that all over you.’ The flap closed with a clang, and Scarlen covered her mouth with her hand, hoping to hold in the goo.
Bear’s flap slammed to a close, indicating he had finished his breakfast as well. ‘Keep it down. It’s the only food you’ll get.’
She burped, and her stomach roiled. ‘That wasn’t like any porridge I know.’
‘Life in a dark cell.’
14
It had been two days in the dark cell, and Scarlen had pains in her feet and legs, lower back, and hips. She felt fatigued and damp to her marrow. The torture of the cold water and gruesome food wasn’t as bad as the shame of using the toilet facilities, at least the cold showers helped cleanse her, and so far she hadn’t been prodded with a baton.
Slumping her head backwards against the hard wall, she groaned. ‘How many times have you done this, Bear?’
‘A few.’
‘Does it get easier as the days pass?’ Not that she could count the hours. It was nothing but dark all the time in the cell. Her only indication was the food times, which she had quickly grown to hate.
‘No. It gets worse. And you won’t see the healer when you get out. You’ll be allowed to rest for the night, then back to your routine come morning, so they take you out of here at bedtime.’
If she weren’t in so much agony, she would look at that snippet of information as the bright side.
‘I know it’s painful and boring, but just know this time will pass, Scars.’
Her thoughts drifted to her bedchamber at the palace, the comfort of her bed, the warmth in the room, her books to read. ‘Whenever I was bored, I would always turn to my books. I found the stories helped transport me somewhere else. A place I could lose myself, if just for a while.’
A beat passed.
