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Liborio Fragale

In Ronaldton, the girl sat at a scarred table in a brightly lit room. After three weeks of living in the same dark cell, the light made her eyes burn. A large male figure sat across the table from her. As the girl’s eyes adjusted, she could make out the features of the face across from her.

But, once the questions started, she longed for the dark cell again. The questioning went on for close to three hours, and the sky was beginning to lighten as she was pushed back into her cell. The door slammed shut behind her, and tears began to roll down her face. It felt like she would never get out of this place.

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