The prison hallways darkened the farther they walked, and the air grew staler, the ground softer, and the noises behind doors more desolate. Low moans and cries escalated as she approached doors, and then faded behind her as they hurried past. At length, they drew near the farthest door down a long hallway of hopeless noise. The guard pulled out his keyring, opened the door, and pushed her inside without another comment. Before he could close the door all the way, she called out, “Miss Duplay will reward you for my presence here. She will want to deal with me herself.”

The guard grunted and shut the door in her face.

Rot and stench hung in the air. Reaching for her handkerchief, she held the white fabric up to her nose and mouth, but it did little to prevent the odor from overpowering her. The attempt not to breathe brought on dizziness. As she turned to face the room and allowed her eyes to adjust to the blackness, she leaned back against the door.

As she searched her new surroundings, dark shapes sharpened in her vision to become bodies, many other people who had claimed a bit of dirt to sit or lie upon. Very little space remained for her body to join them. Still too dark to see into the corners or much farther into the room, she stepped two feet to the right and made to sit down, but her foot nudged something soft. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She stepped back in front of the door and gingerly lowered herself to the ground, leaning her back against the wood frame. Alert, she tried to distinguish outlines of people.

The room must have quieted when the guard opened the door, because now that she had settled, small whimpering noises, rustling, and motion along the far wall startled her. A gentle cooing sound followed, and the tones of a comforting female voice soothed.

Adjusting her handkerchief, she gagged as the full strength of the smell in the room entered her nose. Human waste, vomit, body sweat, and stench of many days without washing all assailed her, but more than that, illness, possibly death and decay. Her eyes scanned the room again, attempting to make out a clear image.

The sound of retching followed by the contents of someone’s stomach hitting the ground sounded to her right.

“Are you ill?” Her small voice carried.

No one responded.

She nudged the person immediately to her right. “Excuse me, will we get light enough to see, in the morning?”

Waiting without success for a response from anyone, she leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes.

At length, after many hopeful attempts throughout the night to see the light of morning, she opened her eyes again and gray light filtered in through a grate on the upper wall. Adjusting her legs and shifting her weight, she waited for feeling to reenter her lower extremities.