Trapped

Chapter Three

My head feels stuffy with confusion. I look around but can't find the owner of the voice. The man continues to push me forward, so I have no time to ask what she meant.

We come to an empty cell, and the realization sets in. I am to stay here. Alone. Locked away as if I've committed a crime. My escort unbuckles me and helps me to the ground before roughly shoving me into the cell. The cell door is slammed in my face and locked with one of the many keys on his ring. Pushing the empty gurney, the man makes his way back up the corridor, leaving me by myself in this small, chilly cell.

Three walls in here are padded, and the fourth is the barred gate. Nothing covers the hard floor, and I can't help but notice an unfortunate dark brown stain in the back corner. A shiver runs through my body at the thought of how that stain came to be.

I run my fingertips across one of the padded walls. It's sticky, making the layer of dirt and dust from the walls almost impossible to get off. Quickly I snatch my hand away and wipe it on my dress.

Turning to the gate, I wrap my hands around the bars and look out. Directly across from me is a white-haired old woman hunched over in the corner. The cell to the right of hers holds a little girl, no more than seven years old. She tries again and again to climb up the bars on the gate like a little monkey. A lady probably a little older than Mother is to the left of the old woman. She's sitting in the middle of her cell making strange clicking noises with her tongue. Those are the only cells I'm able to see.

Feeling sick, I take a seat in the opposite corner of the stain and lean against the grimy wall. Hugging my knees to my chest, I wait for something, anything, to happen.

My whole being feels completely numb. Not a single comprehensible thought occupies my mind, almost like my brain has gone to sleep while the rest of me is awake. Blankly I stare at the wall for hours, listening to the hideous screams swirling around me.

I don't know how long I stay like this, but surely it's several hours. During this time, the lady with the annoying tongue gets taken out of her cell and led somewhere down the hall in the direction that I came in. A trembling girl is brought in and discarded in the vacant cell a little while later. Wildly she thrashes around, then lunges at the gate. Pressing her mouth between the bars, she screams, "My husband will get me out! Just you wait! His presidential duties may keep him busy, but he is not too busy to help me! My Abraham will send every last one of you to jail, you hear me?"

Presidential duties? Her Abraham? The president, Abraham Lincoln? One does not have to study the girl long to come to the conclusion that she is not the... Oh, what did Robert say they were calling it now? Something silly... First lady? That must be right. Such a ridiculous term, what is she first in? If anyone should have the title, it should be Eve, but what do I know? Besides, her clothes are a dead give away, but she's also much too young. In the dim light, her face looks jagged and angular from months of hunger. Who does she think she's fooling?

I suppose even if she were the actual Mary Lincoln she would be locked up. The Lincolns are most assuredly not welcome here, although I'm not entirely sure why. I've seen a picture of Mary Lincoln in Father's newspaper once, and she looked like a nice enough woman. But alas, the Lincolns are our enemies now. The United States is our enemy.