He stood in a small dark room with a sliver of yellow light peeking through a gap in the cinderblocks. He kicked and punched at the stone, but it wouldn’t budge. He scrounged around the room and found a splintered pickaxe in the corner. He swung with all his malnourished might and crashed through one wall of his prison. He waited and listened for an alarm that did not sound. He slowly crept forward into the open air. He stood under a streetlight on an abandoned service road. He felt the cool night breeze on his pallid skin. He smiled. He laughed. He ran away from that accursed place.
He lay in a small dark room with no sliver of yellow light peeking through a gap in the cinderblocks. He wasn’t sure which was worse: his ongoing detainment, or his dreams of freedom.