Here is an except from a story I am working on.
I sat with my back against the freezing bricks. The stone was so cold my back covered with a simple cotton woven t-shirt, burned with pain. It was the beginning of the fourth day the sun was barely peaking through bars atop the adjacent wall, when she was brought to in. A guard dragged her by the little cloth that was left of, what was probably a dark colored sweatshirt, but I couldn’t be sure. At first sight, you might have thought she was already a corpse. But, if she were dead, why would she be in this frigid prison with the lot of us. It was not until I got a closer look at her, that I saw one eye remained open, and her lips breathed in and out unsteady breaths.
No one approached her for hours. We all let her stay lying in the same position, in which she landed, when the guard tossed her. When the sun had passed by the window, and mercifully began to thaw the walls, she made the first movement. All of our eyes stared at her, with more intensity than a sniper with his intended victim in the cross hairs. Her left arm, moved stretched out toward the wall, searching for something to hold onto. She moved at a surprising quick pace, desperately trying to find a way to pull herself to the wall. I wonder now, if she realized how much time had passed while she lay on the filthy prison floor, surrounded by fifteen starving inmates. All of which silently watched each other, waiting for struggling animal to die, so we buzzards could descend and clean up nature’s mess.