Parker
“Show me your hands.”
I did as I was told.
“Move three steps back.”
The old male nurse slotted the tray inside my room and didn’t wait for me to catch it. I learned my lesson that first day.
The smell of bland food has never been more unappealing. I slurp up the questionable contents of the tray, not because I want to, but because my famished body is not giving me the option to reject it anymore.
Not caring nor minding the weird texture, I don’t even chew on the damned things I’m shoveling down my mouth. My dwindling strength is dependent on these, no matter how much I abhor it.
A bang on the metal door distracts me mid-bite. I shuffle onto the only entrance and exit of my confinement because I know that if I don’t, they will make me.
The undeniable smirk on my face was swiftly erased that first day when it dawned on me: this was actually worse than prison.