THE BLOOD IN Mischa's mouth was warm and bitter. Beads of sweat streamed down her face, into her eyes, mouth and ears, dripping off her chin. Her thighs and lower back were in searing pain. She tried to keep her breathing even by exhaling in quick bursts. More than anything, she was trying not to pass out.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX9sXQ3N1BF
Her back was against the wall and her thighs were at right angles to it, parallel to the floor. It was just like sitting in a chair, but minus the chair. She was steeling herself against the wall, trying not to let herself slide down to the floor.
The guard monitoring Mischa was named Josette. She was, by all accounts, the only guard nastier than the head guard, Coralie. To Mischa's horror, Josette actually bore a striking resemblance to her, if you added an inch of height, twenty pounds of muscle, and a creepy smile. Mischa's cellmates called Josette her belle-soeur laide---her ugly stepsister.
"Voulez-vous cesser?" she asked Mischa as she lit a cigarette.
Did she want to stop? She knew Mischa did. She'd been in this position for almost thirty minutes. Her legs were trembling. Her face was twisted in agony. But she wasn't going to give Josette the satisfaction of an answer, because sure as shit smells, she would respond with a cruel direction to remain in this positon for another thirty minutes!
It had been six nights like this, each of them with Josette. At first she went back to the steam pipe, handcuffing Mischa over her head. One night, she just made Mischa stand all night, twelve hours straight, with her arms out, something they called l'epouvantail, or the scarecrow. Poor Mischa's ankles were so swollen she couldn't walk the next day. Another night, she let Mischa fall asleep on a hard floor but woke her up every thirty minutes by splashing water in her face.
Mischa started to slip down the wall. Her thighs felt like they'd just caught on fire.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe2JI8sEtQT
Josette patted the nightstick against Mischa's leg, watching her.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡchaINxDq05
Mischa collapsed, her butt landing hard on the concrete floor. She stretched out her legs. She panted, moaned, and spat out blood.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj9NxeqCGx4
"I did not tell you---you could stop," Josette said, holding the nightstick against her side.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRnil0SZ0L2
Mischa braced herself for what was coming next. So far, they hadn't hit her in the face; they'd limited the abuse to the torso, back, and legs.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfacanssLUh
"Get----up," said Josette. She knew Mischa wouldn't. She knew Mischa couldn't.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5NRH5u3tqS
"Just, give me a minute," Mischa pleaded. "Just one...."329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0iJNvnKVtF
The spray hit Mischa on the left cheek, just below her eye. But pepper spray, she had come to learn the hard way, didn't need to make direct contract with the eye to cause serious disability and pain.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG9OXaQA3ei
Within seconds, Mischa's face felt like it was on fire. Her eyes shut involuntarily. She gasped for air and broke out into convulsive coughing. She was on her hands and knees, fighting for whatever air she could take in, her face ravaged by fiery heat.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7fCoKCmeqI
Mischa panted, gagged and shrieked. It would be thirty minutes or forty-five minutes before the effects would completely wear off. At which time Josette would demand that she reassume her positon on the wall or face the OC spray once more.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxzaQnVsyun
"Ce va etre une longue nuit," Mischa's ugly stepsister called out to her.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGHCTUCfjPz
Josette was right. It was going to be another long night.329Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxVvpjcLYKW
