There are twelve people in the cell, stewing in their own putrid dirt. It's not as cramped as it could have been – I'm thankful for that – but even so, I haven't yet managed to sneak my own personal space. My nails are cracked now, which is disappointing after I had grown them out for such a long time, and the beds feel raw and like deep gashes in my skin. Dust is swept into my eyes by the wind, but when I close them, a wave of guilt floods into me; there are only so many hours of daylight that trickle through the concrete walls of the prison, and I do not want to waste them.

A woman, new, with fresh, dark skin and bleeding wounds, sobs beside me. She tugs at her matted hair; hair woven this way by the hands that had grabbed her, punished her, tortured her. Though I want to, I do not make an attempt to comfort my cellmate, instead choosing to return my focus to the sliver of sunlight.

It has been a year and a half since I have walked free. I had stopped counting the days, perhaps, a month ago. I know a lawyer visits me every fortnight, and that the gift basket I am shown but not given arrives each Monday afternoon, but, since I have nowhere to go, why, I ask myself, would I abide by the laws of time? That way, when – if ever – I get out of here, I can tell people that it was only a day. A blip.

Something about today is, although I'm loath to admit it, unique.

I listen out for the change; a clunk of footsteps, of thick, leather boots and guns hitting belt buckles. Someone is pacing through the hallway, which is unsurprising.

But the aimlessness picks up; the purposeful beats against the dry, compacted mud heading towards me now. They thrum, just as my heart does.

It's hard to keep a sharp mind here, so deprived of stimulation and entertainment, but I can briefly recall the lawyer saying something exciting the last time she visited. My pulse had spiked, and I, for a moment, had hoped. (The feeling was quickly suppressed.)

Yet now, with the officer's gruff Arabic and the clack of a gun being raised, I can predict what is about to happen.

"Madani," comes the low, menacing voice. He looks me up and down, eyes scanning over the welts and bruises on my skin, something appreciative spreading across his face at how the worn fabric hung off her bones, exposing the few curves that remain. "Follow me."

If I had been counting, I would know that it is my five-hundred and sixtieth day. I would know that the sunlight came from the morning, the position of the star in the sky naming it just past nine o'clock.

If I had taken it upon myself to care, I would know that the lawyer has been fighting my case for thirty-five days, pushing this particular claim of innocence because it was the most viable one we have had so far.

I'm not an idiot. I'm aware that trying to disprove espionage is bloody difficult, and maybe that is why I have half-succumbed to the idea of never going home, trapped in this shithole forever. Again, since I've denounced the idea of time, that won't mean a thing.

It will be doable. I'll cope.

A document is waved in my face. Crisp, white, Embassy paper. The document contrasts the dark skin of the officer's hands, and, though I've paled during my time locked away, it is a contrast against my own, too. I look down at my cracked palms, my skin dry, filthy.

The officer grunts. Maybe he speaks.

Two other guards push my shoulders, strong hands not really needing their strength, sending me hurtling towards a wooden desk. This room, I notice, smells different. It smells of the outside world, of society, of something I have almost forgotten.

"The Sudanese Government hereby declares prisoner Anya Madani," reads out a secretary, removed from a war that would harshen his words, education softening his tone and making him seem oddly... trustworthy, "of British nationality, is to be released from Kobar Prison with immediate effect."

And, suddenly, I am thrust outside onto the busy road. 

notes: 

IT'S BACK 

I've changed the tense and the narrative voice but it's back and it's the same x

GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: 

THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT