SHATTERED MELODIES
The imposter.
Pretty face.
Wagers he won't last the week.
When the guards took us line to shower, I could feel it growing. The glares were too pointed. The jokes were barbs, slicing through the silence with a blade.
Steam filled the bathroom, but it didn't hide me. Scars drew eyes, silence taunting.
"Sing us a song, superstar," someone jeered. "Oh wait—you can't."
The rest screamed. Hands shoved me hard, my back against the dripping tiles. A piece of soap slid on the floor, inches from me. The largest one was on his knees behind me, his hot and rotten breath on the back of my neck.
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