I sat in the old, dusty cot with my back to the door. Even when I heard it open and the careful steps of a guard enter I didn’t move. I didn’t breath. I’m sure I looked dead anyway. My bones stabbed at my paper thin skin. My stomach was close to eating itself. I haven’t seen my face in…god knows how long.
The footsteps stopped short of my cot and I felt the guard lower something on the edge of the bed. A moment later the smell reached my nose and my stomach asked, no, begged for me to turn over and devour the food on the tray. And yet, I still didn’t move.
“You need to eat, girl.” His voice was deep.
It took a lot of energy to finally move. My hand slid down my side, feeling along the bed until it gingerly touched the tray. I felt the cheap plastic bowl. Then the rest of my body moved until I could see the man. His eyebrows were drew together and his eyes were full of hatred.
I almost smiled. Almost. He was about to get a whole angrier. With my fingers already by the bowl it only took a flick for me to send the stew pouring off the edge of the bed and onto the guards shoes.
He didn’t waste a second as he lunged at me. His hands were around my neck and my own hands reached out gripping his forearm. “You little bitch!” He growled.
I couldn’t breathe. I begun to feel woozy. Regardless, I still smiled when I saw the guard realise exactly what I was doing. I saw his dark eyes grow wide when he figured that I was holding his hands in place, hoping he would choke me. With strength I didn’t know I had, I kept his hands in place for a few seconds longer.
But I couldn’t hold him long enough. He tore his hands away from me, holding them out like they were poisoned. A rush of stale air filled my lungs. My voice croaked, scratching my throat. “Oh come on. Kill me.” I glared up at him. “It’s a win-win situation.”