The man’s fist acted of almost its own accord, making contact with my cheek, shattering my jaw-bone, and making me pour out blood, spitting from the left side of my mouth, careful not to use the right side. All five men laughed hysterically at me, slamming the cold metal bars, locking them in their brackets. I stared at those cylindrical bars, casting shadows on the floor from the moonlight streaming in through the window, also obscured by dark gray metal bars.
Now I was absolutely lifeless, a limp, dying form, in a cell; dark, cold, and gray. My navy sweatshirt was drenched in sweat, and dribbled with blood, but I ripped it off, tearing off a few strips and wrapping them around my jaw, making it grow darker, yet holding the bone in place, at least for now. I slid onto the stone table that was supposed to be a bed, but reminded me of a stone table; ironically, and made sure the injured half of my jaw faced the concrete ceiling. I had a fit-full sleep, dreamless, and darker than a starless sky.
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