The Highs, the Lows, and the Don't-Let-Them-Knows

When they first shoved me into this prison, I couldn't stop laughing. After years of unprovoked violence, an undending stream of cruel, cutting words, did they not know the only freedom I sought was freedom from them?

But, as time passes, maybe they were right, maybe isolation is punishment after all, because being alone is so very...cold. Maybe I would welcome an insult just to hear another's breath; maybe I would welcome a slap just to feel another's warm flesh.

It hasn't come to that, not yet, because I think there may be someone here with me after all. I hear her laugh sometimes, and every day the laughter grows heartier, warmer, louder. Maybe she'll talk to me soon...

You, there! Promise me you won't tell them about her. I can't, no I won't, have them taking her away...

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