Sands of Redemption

23

Georgia lay on her cot staring at the ceiling, doubt and despair weaving themselves together into a hard knot in her chest. Vaguely she heard breakfast arrive but she had no appetite. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Georgia closed her eyes and turned onto her belly, feeling as though the walls were folding in on her like the sides of a cardboard box, trapping her in, burying her alive, like one of her grandma's cherished porcelain dolls lying locked away and abandoned in the spare room.

As usual two militants arrived to escort her to the toilet. Picking up her bucket, she followed them outside. Expecting the usual routine, Georgia was surprised when one of the guards decided to follow her all the way up to the toilet. He followed her closely, so closely she could hear him whistle slightly at each breath. Georgia's heart was racing. When she reached the toilet, Georgia slammed the door in his face.

When she had finished, she saw that he had returned to his usual position by the shack.

Returning to her room, Georgia ate her breakfast. It was warm and smelled a little funky but she was too hungry to care.

Later that night she wasn't feeling too good.

Georgia groaned.

'Are you alright?' Mathew asked.

'Not really.'

'What's the matter?'

Georgia took a long, deep breath, her insides crawling. 'Do you have any idea what was in that food this morning?'

'Just beans and lentils, I think,' Mathew said.

'Are you sure there wasn't any fish or meat in there?'

He snorted. 'They would never give us meat. Are you sick?'

Georgia went silent. 'Oh God.' Leaping to her feet, she rushed at the door and slammed her hands against it. 'Let me out, let me out! I need the toilet!'

She stepped back as the door opened a crack. Squinting against the lamplight, she met the glittering eyes of her guard.

'Please,' Georgia begged, 'I need to get to the toilet right now. The toilet! Hammam! Hammam!'

Looking confused, he pointed at her bucket.

'No, Goddamnit! I need to do the other way. I need to badly.' When he still looked blankly at her, Georgia called through the wall, 'Could someone translate for me, please? If he expects me to use the bucket then he's going to have to clean up the mess.'

While Aashif translated, Georgia doubled-over, squeezing her legs together.

'He says he cannot do it. There is no-one to take you. You will have to use the bucket.'

'Are you kidding me? Why can't he take me?' Aashif translated again but the guard shook his head. 'Oh for God's sakes!' Georgia groaned as she wrapped her arms around her cramping belly. 'Well then, could he at least give me something to see by?'

He agreed. Leaving her his lantern, he quit the room as fast as he could.

Setting the lantern by her bed, Georgia called to the men, 'I'd suggest you block your ears.'

It was several rounds of horrendous diarrhoea before Georgia found herself slumped on the floor, curled up around the bucket, soaked in sweat, her mouth so dry she could barely swallow.

'Holding on in there alright?' Mathew asked.

'Yeah,' Georgia gasped. Then she vomited. They all groaned.

Georgia crawled her way back to bed, collapsing in a limp, soggy mess, feeling a lot like the texture the lentils and beans had taken on after she'd left them sit for so long.