Art Credit: Ernovan Studio. Link to Fiverr Account in Acknowledgements Section

Footsteps.

They were coming back.

Whoever they were.

Rebecca Santos wrung at the rusted chains that kept her trapped a grime covered stone wall. A rank stench wafted through her square prison cell's sweltering air.

The cell itself was small. It had a damp floor riddled with dark puddles and soaked straw.

A dull wooden door faced Rebecca from the other side of the cell. A square-shaped opening was carved in the top half.

Sunlight seeped between the spaces of three iron bars built into the opening. Every sound beyond the door made its way into the cell as well.

Including the footsteps. They drew all the more closer to the cell. Rebecca held her breath.

The sunlight was just out of Rebecca's reach. It helped cast shadows on the prison cell's floor. The footsteps stopped and suddenly Rebecca saw a silhouette: the shape of a woman with long hair tied into a ponytail. She also had narrow shoulders.

Rebecca kept her gaze on the shadow. She didn't think such a silent figure would have so much power over her.

"Sa'vaaq."

The sharp tone cut through Rebecca, making her flinch. This was definitely a woman. When Rebecca thought about it, every voice she heard was female. Every conversation outside her cell involved two women speaking with one another. They used a strange language she didn't understand. She was sure the woman at the prison cell door spoke this same tongue now.

Rebecca paused, waiting for more to be said. "...What?" she asked when she realized the woman awaited her reply.

"...Vasaaq," said the woman. The shadow remained still. It waited.

"I don't speak...whatever you're saying," Rebecca said. "OK? English, I speak English. Or español. Like, Mama or Padre. Do you know those words?"

"Estas taklama prost shprakh. Gerudo di kenst haba'aq? Estaba yamal bava'az zikh kawahid minaa."

"Can you speak English or espanol, lady?"

"Entonces...ealaa nisht vehvhi . Fremd...y mukhayib."

"PUTA!"

Rebecca felt good saying the word. She stuck out her tongue and hoped the woman at the door saw it. "That's another Spanish word. It means 'bitch.' You and whoever else put me here are estúpida putas...only stupid bitches lock up little girls."

"And only a punk would curse at an adult."

A cold shiver coursed through Rebecca's body. She wished she could have turned into a shadow in the wall she was chained to.

"Yeah," said the woman. "Some of us are bilingual. You speak Common Language, I see. Whoever raised you should either be scolded or feel ashamed of you. I'm guessing the latter."

"...Just let me go."

"I can't. And won't. You're apparently dangerous." The woman's fingers drummed against her side of the prison door, as if the discussion already bored her.

Rebecca felt a rise in her chest. "How am I dangerous?" she asked. "I'm ten!"

"Yes," said the woman. "But you also put a crater in the haunted wasteland."

"What wasteland?"

"Tu haqana take hob nisht anung madha el dezier hu. Quien ma'ant bistu, kind?"

"Can you just speak English?"

"Whatever that is."

"Where am I?"

"That's none of your concern."

Rebecca groaned. "I didn't put no crater in a...a wasteland or whatever you called it. OK?"

The woman scoffed. "Say that to the hole in the sand. My people think you're demon-possessed."

"But I'm not!"

"It's hard for them to believe you, given what we've witnessed."

"I don't even know you. And you're not telling me nothing."

"Again, I don't want your questions. I need answers, whelp. Where are you from? Castletown? Kakariko? Labrynna or Holodrum? You don't belong to us, I can tell that."

"I'm from Oak Shire, Illinois."

"Where's that?"

"America."

The woman chuckled. "You have quite an imagination. Those places don't exist."

Rebecca glared at the woman, though she could only see her shadow in the door. "You made up a bunch of names too and I don't remember hearing about them in school. You won't even tell me where you trapped me."

"Are you sure you're not a wanderer?" The woman's voice sounded gentler. "We've had those kinds of girls in our village before, you know. The ones who...weren't born here. There's no shame in that. But...you have to be honest with me."

"I am being honest, you psycho."

"Watch your tongue."

"Puedo hacer lo que quiera, perro feo. I can do what I want, you ugly dog. I want to go home! I'm not whatever-possessed, OK?! I'm innocent—SO LET ME GO!"

Rebecca rattled her chains. Through her gaze, Rebecca saw the shadow move—as if she did something to cut through her visitor, to make them jump in a form of fear.

She heard two other voices shouting in the strange language—the woman wasn't alone. For what reason, Rebecca didn't know. She didn't do anything wrong to deserve any of this.

A hushed conversation happened at the door. After an exchange of words, everyone seemed calm. The woman turned still once more.

"If we are to have this conversation," the woman said in a more subdued tone. "You...you must calm down. Alright? You cannot have any anger in you as we speak. I only want to talk. OK?"

"I don't think you just want to talk," said Rebecca. "Or you wouldn't have put me in jail. Or put me in this..."

Rebecca gestured towards her outfit. Gone was everything she'd worn back in Oak Shire. Gone was her pink t-shirt, her blue jeans and her magenta skechers.

They had been replaced by a bleak grey dress with frayed hemming that stopped at the top of her exposed shins. Soil itched the spaces between her bare toes. The violet scrunchies that controlled her wild, frizzy red hair had also disappeared; every curly strand bounced out and flowed down.

Naturally, the situation caused Rebecca's heart to race and the rest of her to panic. Why was she in prison? She did nothing wrong.

She wasn't a criminal. Rebecca was ten—what could a kid do to get herself in jail? Someone had to tell her.

All Rebecca wanted to do was free herself from the shackles as soon as possible.

Rebecca heard the woman click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "With the way you speak, I have a hard time believing you," continued the woman. "You are a lucky child. You should be grateful you've been spoken for. Otherwise, we would have already done the unthinkable."

Rebecca paused. "The unthinkable?"

"Execution. The most severe punishment for a prisoner."

"No..." Rebecca's eyes teared up. "You can't do that! Please don't do that, I didn't do nothing! I just want to go home!" She rattled her chains again and the woman shifted in the barred window.

"ENOUGH!" she said. "WIPE AWAY YOUR TEARS! NOW! OR ELSE IT WILL HAPPEN! I SWEAR IT!"

Rebecca had to be honest with herself. She feared for her life. After taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself and settled down in the prison cell. The woman speaking with her seemed to notice.

"Smart, smart girl, you are." said the woman. "Keep your head." The woman sighed. "Look, be grateful that you're in here. As long as you stay in this cell, you'll live. You will be fed while chained to the wall. Get used to it. You will get water while chained to the wall. Three guards will let you stand and walk around in this cell for exercise. You will be in chains. You will only leave the cell to relieve yourself under the supervision of those same three guards, or to undergo trial. If we say nothing, it's just a bathroom break—"

"That's gross."

"They're all women and they will look away while you do your business."

"It's still gross."

"Don't interrupt me anymore, girl. We are a humane society. We will consider your fate over the next few days. One woman has spoken for you. The rest wouldn't mind hanging you. Don't ruin our mercy with insolence. With that...sav'orq."

The woman's footsteps echoed across what seemed like the emptiest space ever made.

"I don't know what sav'orq means, puta," Rebecca muttered under her breath.

"I HAVE THE EARS OF A RITO!"

Rebecca could have jumped out of her chains as the woman's voice gonged back into her cell.

"THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING!"

"What's a Rito?" Rebecca said after calming herself down.

The woman's voice was far away when she answered: "Something far freer than you."

Then, there was nothing. Rebecca's eyes welled up. All she could see was a blurred wall of stone now, and a blurred beam of daylight seeping into her prison.

She wondered if she would stay here forever. Sheila came to Rebecca's mind and Rebecca wept for her.

She cried for everything that made her think of Oak Shire to the point of her missing it dearly.