The days piled up like pages torn from a rotten calendar, leaving no trace, no meaning, no hope. The degradation was total: Vito's cell stank of mold and congealed piss, the mattress was a nest of fleas that devoured his skin at night, the bucket overflowed and no one emptied it for days. The food—if you could call it that—was a gray slop that tasted of detergent and spoiled fish, served on cracked plastic trays. The showers? Once every ten days, freezing water that pierced his bones like needles. The guards ignored him or insulted him, spitting near his feet as he passed.Vito didn't complain. Never.His anger was a low, constant, stoic flame. This is my furnace, he thought, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after swallowing yet another mouthful of shit. You'll temper me, you bastards, and when I get out, I'll be pure steel. But escape? Impossible. Asinara was a prison island, surrounded by stormy seas, guarded by patrol boats, dogs, and searchlights. No escapee had ever man
Last Updated : 2025-11-01 Read more