She's balanced on the balcony rail outside her cell, steadying herself, gripping a pillar. Four floors below, unreal faces look up as warders clatter at pace up the stairs toward her.
"Don't jump!" she hears,
She jumps. She lands on a damp mattress. Her father is taking money and promising ice cream. A strange man, smelling of beer and onions, is taking her hand. The man puts his hand over her face. Now she can't breathe. Or scream. But it's ok, the scream has come to her: it's there, now, as she sleeps, slowly crawling up her legs.