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Saving Sanity

"My body is no longer his temple" was scrawled all over the walls, of seventeen-year-old Sanity Sinclair's jail cell, in dried blood. The blood was brown, the walls were painted gray and there wasn't a period after the word "temple".


Sanity knew that when blood first spills from an open sore on the human body it is red but as the blood dries it leaves dark brown stains on your clothes, bed sheets and the bathroom floor.


Based on this knowledge, Sanity could tell that it had been quite some time since the woman who wrote those words, on the wall, in her own blood, had been in this cell.


Sanity was alone now and she never met the woman but it still gave her clarity to know that someone else has been in here feeling exactly as she felt. For the first time in her life, graffiti-scrawled walls comforted her and it made her feel like she wasn't alone.


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Those seven words were the last thing Sanity read before she drifted off to a peaceful sleep that night and "Get up!" was the first thing she heard yelled at her, that woke her up, the following morning.


The yeller was none other than Thomas Harding the chief of police of Willow's Creek, South Carolina. He was standing inside Sanity's cell. He was holding a rope in one hand and a cloth bag in the other. He was looking down on Sanity. There were two other police officers that she didn't recognize standing right beside Chief Harding.


Sanity sat up and Chief Harding bent down and very roughly pulled Sanity the rest of the way to her feet. He tied her hands tightly in front of her with the rope and he placed the cloth bag over her head blinding her. Those seven words on the wall behind the three men were the last thing she saw before her world went dark.


To be continued...

© 2022 Kristina Pitts

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