The top of my feet drag against the rough concrete. Rougher hands hoist me from my armpits as I am dragged through my undeserved home.

“Could you lift me a little higher?” I ask, not looking up. “The concrete’s wearing holes through my shoes, and it’s starting to hurt.”

A thick, stiff pain finds its way into my gut, placed there by the swinging cudgel in the off-hand of the right guard, Porter. It tells me everything he feels about me without words, yet he still feels the need to speak. I suppress...