Chapter 6
That day, Fisty lost money gambling. She was in a foul mood. The moment she got back to the cell, she saw Sophia sitting in the corner, using a small piece of charcoal she'd secretly picked up to draw something on the rough concrete floor.
It was a sunflower. Simple lines, but with a kind of stubborn vitality.
"Stop painting your shit." Fisty stomped on it, grinding the sunflower to dust. Finally, an outlet for her rage.
"What are you looking at? Lick that floor clean!"
Sophia lifted her head. Her eyes, once clear and bright, were now as still as stagnant water.
She didn't move.
That silent defiance completely enraged Fisty.
"You think you're tough?"
Fisty roared and grabbed a basin of cold water nearby, dumping it over Sophia's head.
The icy water soaked through her thin prison uniform instantly. Sophia shivered violently, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
"Get on your knees! Wipe that floor clean! You don't eat until you're done!" Fisty threw a filthy rag at her feet.
Her stomach hurt so badly she nearly passed out.
Sophia gritted her teeth, braced her hands on the floor, and tried to stand.
But she was too weak. After several failed attempts, she gave up.
She knelt on the freezing floor, cold seeping into her bones through her knees.
She forced herself to keep going, wiping the floor little by little, her movements mechanical and numb.
Half an hour passed. Her lips had turned purple from the cold.
But her back remained straight.
That pride, buried deep in her bones, hadn't bent. Even in this hell.
Fisty watched her stubborn posture, and her fury only grew.
A murderer. A piece of trash abandoned by her husband. What gave her the right to have that look in her eyes?
She walked over and kicked Sophia hard in the back.
"Get down!"
Sophia's body lurched forward. Her forehead slammed into the cement with a dull thud.
The pain in her stomach exploded. Her vision went dark.
Fisty wasn't satisfied. She grabbed Sophia by the hair and smashed her head into the ground.
"Playing dead, huh? I'll kill you today!"
Fists and feet rained down on Sophia like a storm. She didn't fight back. She only instinctively protected her stomach.
It hurt so much.
Mom...
Her consciousness began to fade. The world sank into darkness.
She woke up to the thick smell of disinfectant.
White ceiling. White sheets.
The prison infirmary.
A doctor was examining her. A guard stood nearby.
"How is she?" the guard asked.
The doctor frowned, his tone serious. "Not good. Severe malnutrition, and her stomach... there's a serious pre-existing condition. This time, she was exposed to cold and beaten, which triggered acute hemorrhaging. If she'd come in any later, she'd be dead."
"Can you treat her?"
"The prison has limited resources. I can stop the bleeding for now. But with her condition, she needs to be sent to a hospital outside immediately for comprehensive treatment. Otherwise..." The doctor shook his head. He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.
The guard looked troubled. "I'll have to get approval for that."
He stepped aside and made a call.
Sophia's eyelids were heavy. She wanted to open them but couldn't muster the strength.
She could hear the guard reporting the situation over the phone, his voice low.
"...Yes, the one Mr. Russell mentioned... Her condition is critical. The doctor recommends outside medical care..."
Mr. Russell.
James.
Sophia's heart seized. Her breathing stopped.
She strained to hear, using every ounce of energy she had left, trying to catch the voice on the other end.
The guard seemed to put the call on speaker. A man's cold, familiar voice came through, distant through the static, but still without a trace of warmth.
"No outside medical care."
The voice paused, as if thinking it over, then added in a tone of cruel calm.
"Just don't let her die in there."
Those words were like an ice-cold blade, stabbing into Sophia's heart and twisting.
He wouldn't even let her die quickly.
He wanted her alive. Like a dog. In this sunless cage, tortured and humiliated, day after day, year after year.
Until he got bored of the game.
Sophia let out a silent, bitter laugh inside. A tear slid from the corner of her eye and disappeared into her hair.
James, you're so cruel.
Pride. Dignity. Self-respect. Everything that had once held her up drained away completely.
She began to learn how to be "obedient."
Fisty's foot-washing water? She carried it.
The cell toilet? She scrubbed it.
The garbage-like food she was given? She'd hand it to Fisty first with a stiff smile. "Fisty, you eat first."
Fisty patted her face, not too gently, like she was playing with a pet. "That's more like it."
The others stopped bothering her after that.
She became a transparent shadow in the corner of the prison, quietly existing. Working, eating, sleeping.
When her stomach hurt, she'd bite down on the blanket and make no sound.
She never thought about painting again.
Her hands were only used for the roughest work now. Her nails were always dirty. Her knuckles had grown thick and rough.
That's good, she thought numbly.
This way, no one would try to break them again.
She just wanted to survive these three years.
Get out. Find her mother. Find the child who'd been thrown away. Then spend what little time she had left with them.
Two years passed like that.
Two years was enough to kill the light in someone's eyes completely.
One afternoon, after the daily yard time ended, she was walking back with her head down when two guards suddenly appeared in front of her, expressionless.
"Sophia, come with us."
No explanation. No room for refusal.
Sophia's heart sank, but she didn't ask questions. She followed obediently.
She was taken to an empty interrogation room. Then a black cloth was pulled over her eyes.
The sudden darkness made her body tense immediately.
"What are you doing?"
No one answered.
She felt two people grab her by the arms and lead her out of the room. They walked a long way. The smell in the air changed from the prison's disinfectant to fresh outdoor cold, and then to the scent of leather inside a car.
She was pushed into a vehicle.
The car drove for a long time, smooth and steady, before finally stopping.
She was pulled out. Her feet sank into thick, soft carpet.
The air was filled with a cold, expensive woody fragrance. Not the kind of scent someone like her should ever smell.
A cold hand undid the restraints on her wrists.
Then someone shoved her forward. She stumbled and fell to the floor.
The door closed behind her.
