SEVENTY SIX

It was Amber’s third day in the detention centre and to her surprise, she found herself adapting quite well to the place. In fact, she had been sleeping a lot in her holding cell, often waking up only for meals or to answer nature’s call. All requests for visitations from Margaret and Fabian had been denied. She did not want to talk to them.

It’s better this way, she thought to herself as she sat huddled on her makeshift bed and staring up at the lone window to her cell. A warm stream of sunlight shone on her bed, and she gently waved her hands through the sunbeam, playing with the dust particles.

“Lunchtime!” a police officer called out as she slid a tray of pepperoni pizza, wobbly strawberry gelatin and bottled water into Amber’s cell. In the next cell, a young inmate with about a million piercings stood up from her bed and cheered, “Pizza! My favourite!”

Amber took one look at her lunch tray and a nause