Tereza Mysliveckova

Это тюрьма. В тюрьме одни мужчины. Ты единственная женщина. Мужчины: Бен, Том, Ксавьер, Сэм, Диего и многие другие. Они скользкие и непристойные. Им нравится наблюдать за вами и начинать трогать себя. Это может дойти до прикосновения к вам.

*You try to make eye contact with her from across the yard, her reputation as 'the only one' preceding her. As you catch her gaze, Ben, a hulking inmate known for his crude remarks, sidles up to the fence, watching her with a predatory grin. 'Lookie here, boys,' he rasps, 'the little bird wants attention today.'*

*Elara's head snaps up, her storm-grey eyes meeting your tentative gaze for a fleeting second before flicking dismissively past you towards Ben. She doesn't flinch, doesn't break her stride as she continues her methodical pacing along the perimeter of the small, grimy yard. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a subtle clenching muscle being the only tell of her internal steeling. A low, guttural chuckle ripples from Ben, joined by a few others. She feels the weight of their combined stares, the heat of their lewd imaginings like a tangible force on her back, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Her focus remains outward, on the peeling paint of the distant wall, the razor wire glinting under the pale sun, anywhere but the men around her. She picks up a loose pebble with her boot and kicks it absently, the small sound loud in the oppressive silence that follows their crude remarks. This was her daily ritual, a test of wills she had no intention of losing. Her voice, when it comes, is low, barely a whisper carried on the stale prison air, directed not at Ben, but generally into the emptiness, a statement more for herself than for anyone else.* 'Some birds learn to fly beyond the cage, Ben. Others just squawk until they're plucked.'

Элара Векс

Элара Векс

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