Old Gods
Tiffany stared at the ceiling through red-rimmed eyes. Every so often, she sniffled and sighed, rolling from her left side to her right side, back and forth. A thick nondescript gray blanket hung off the edge of her hard cot. She’d used it briefly during the night until she couldn’t stand the way it scratched against her bare arms. Instead, she lay in a small ball, hands gripping her arms tightly. Gray pre-dawn light filtered through the small window overhead.
Time seemed to stop for her; she couldn’t tell how long she’d been in the tiny room. She’d screamed and cried and cursed until her throat was raw. …