Nailah stood with several other women, their faces tired and resigned. In front of them, the Matron watched with sharp eyes and a stern look that left no room for defiance.

“If you’re here…” the Matron began, her voice cold and unforgiving, “it means you’ve reached the lowest of the low. You are beyond pathetic. But worry not, we will shape you into hardworking citizens.”

Nailah swallowed hard, already dreading what was to come.

“In here, you do not speak unless spoken to,” the Matron continued. “All personal belongings will be confiscated. Laziness, impoliteness, and any disruption to the workhouse will be severely punished.”

Nailah glanced at the other women. Most looked down at the ground, too beaten down by life to react.

“Now, follow Mrs. Colington,” the Matron commanded, motioning to her colleague. “She will assign you to your work posts.”

From dawn to noon, Nailah struggled with the sewing work. Her fingers, unused to the meticulous task, fumbled with the fabric, earning her the disapproving glares of her overseers.

From noon to evening, Nailah would handle the laundry. The laundry station was no better. The weight of the soaked garments made her arms ache. Every movement felt like a battle against fatigue and hunger.

By the time six o’clock arrived, she barely had the strength to stand.

“It’s supper time!” the Matron announced. “Everyone to the kitchen!”

Just as Nailah was about to follow the others, the Matron pointed a bony finger at her.

“You! Come here.”

Nailah’s heart sank as she stepped forward. “Yes, Matron?”

“You haven’t met a single one of your quotas today.” The Matron’s lips curled into a smirk. “That means your food portions will be docked. Do you understand?”

Nailah lowered her head. “Yes, Matron.”

She walked to the cafeteria, her stomach twisting in knots. The silence in the hall was suffocating, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet.

Nailah sat with the other women, eyeing their plates with bread, potatoes, cheese, and tea. When her own plate was placed in front of her, she frowned. Just a hard, stale piece of bread and a cup of water.

She took a bite, and her face twisted in disgust.

This is horrible…

That night, as she lay in her cramped bed, her stomach let out a pitiful growl. She curled into herself, trying to block out the hunger.

I can’t do this…

Tears slipped down her face as despair settled in.

Across the room, an older woman with greying hair, Keisha, watched her with quiet concern.

The next morning, Nailah forced herself to eat the wretched breakfast, but it was no better than the night before. It was like swallowing liquid dirt.

With a sigh, she pushed the bowl toward the girl sitting beside her. “Do you want it? I’m full.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Really? Thank you!”

From then on, Nailah resolved to keep her head down and work. She threw herself into every task, refusing to show weakness. She scrubbed, cooked, mopped—anything that needed to be done, she did it with everything she had.

When suppertime came, the Matron called for her again. Nailah braced herself for the worst.

“You did well today,” the Matron admitted. “You met all your quotas.”

Nailah bowed her head. “Thank you, Matron.”

Even with a full portion of food that seemed quite appealing to her the previous day was as tasteless as ever. Nailah sat at the long table, pushing the bland food around her plate. The monotony, the endless cycle of labor and suffering. It was breaking her.

She clenched her fork, tears welling in her eyes.

I can’t take this anymore… I just can’t…

Something inside her snapped.

With a sudden burst of fury, she threw her plate to the ground. The loud crash echoed through the hall, drawing every eye toward her.

“Enough of this!!” Nailah shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

The Matron’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock.

“What is this?!” Nailah’s voice rose with each word. “We’re treated like cattle! We toil endlessly, we starve, we’re given tasteless food, and we’re not even allowed to speak freely!”

Gasps filled the room. The other women stared at her, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear.

“This is not normal!” Nailah’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. “I’m not taking this shit!”

The Matron’s face twisted with fury. “You insolent brat! You’ve broken at least five rules with that attitude alone! For this, you will receive a week of solitary confinement, docked rations, and a whipping!”

Nailah’s chest heaved, but she did not look away. Even as the guards stepped forward to seize her, she held her ground.

 It felt good to lash out. For the first time since arriving at the workhouse, she felt like a human being. But she knew she was about to pay for it.

The sharp crack of a whip echoed through the cell, followed by Nailah’s anguished scream. Pain flared across her back as she collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

The Matron loomed over her, her expression one of grim satisfaction. “I hope you will use this as a lesson on your poor behavior.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind her.

Nailah lay motionless, her body wracked with pain. Sobs trembled from her lips as her vision blurred with tears.

“I give up…” she thought. “I can’t take this anymore…”

A dull emptiness settled over her. She lay there, unmoving, staring at nothing.

Then…

“Psst!”

Her ears barely registered the whisper. It was soft yet insistent.

Slowly, she turned her head toward the cell door. Through the small opening, a hand slipped inside, holding a piece of bread on a piece of cloth.

“Come,” the voice urged. “I’ve brought you some food. I promise it tastes better.”

Nailah blinked. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She crawled toward the door, hesitant but desperate. Reaching up with trembling hands, she took the bread.

The moment it touched her lips, her eyes widened. A burst of sweetness spread across her tongue. Tears welled up again, but this time, they carried something different… relief.

“It’s delicious!” she whispered, her voice cracking.

A quiet chuckle came from the other side of the door. “I see you have a sweet tooth just like me. I dipped into some honey that I found.”

The voice belonged to a woman. Through the small window, Nailah caught a glimpse of greying hair, smooth brown skin, and a kind yet mischievous smile.

“Thank you…” Nailah choked out. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman replied. “When I find more honey, I’ll give you some. But you can’t go losin’ your mind like that anymore.”

Nailah wiped her face, trying to steady her breath. “How could I ever repay you?”

A chuckle. “How about you tell me your name?”

“That’s it?” Nailah asked, surprised. “Well… my name is Naine. What about you?”

“Keisha.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Nailah finally asked, “Why did you help me?”

Keisha exhaled softly. “I’m not sure… probably because I could feel that you were givin’ up.”

Nailah didn’t respond. She pressed her back against the door, listening.

“You see,” Keisha continued, “many here have never known a life outside of this place, yet they continue to fight. You know why?”

Nailah’s eyes widened slightly.

“They have dreams,” Keisha said. “Purposes to hold onto.”

Nailah swallowed, unsure how to respond.

“For someone, it could be to reach the moon,” Keisha mused. “For someone else, it could be to find a soulmate.”

“I had a dream once,” Nailah admitted quietly, looking down. “But it was nearly impossible to reach when I was doing okay. Now, it’s way beyond impossible.”

Keisha chuckled. “That’s why they’re called dreams. If you give up as soon as you face a setback, then maybe you didn’t really believe in it.

Nailah stiffened. “I did believe in my dream! But I’m stuck here forever, and if I leave, some crimson bandits will want my head.”

“And that’s why you’re struggling so much,” Keisha said knowingly. “Having a dream is the difference between living and surviving. And you can only survive for so long before life seems pointless.”

Nailah hesitated before asking, “Do you have a dream?”

Keisha opened her mouth to answer but suddenly coughed.

“Are you okay?” Nailah asked, concern creeping into her voice.

Before Keisha could respond, a voice rang out.

“Who’s there?!”

Keisha tensed. “I’ve got to go! See you later!”

She disappeared before the Matron reached the cell door. Nailah stared at the empty space where Keisha had just been, a strange feeling settling in her chest.

“Never know what will happen tomorrow, huh?” she murmured.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “How true.”

A week later, the sound of the cell door unlocking jolted Nailah awake. Her time in solitary was over and she was free to return to work at the workhouse, but just felt like another sentence to her.

Light flooded in, momentarily blinding her.

“I hope you’ve had time to reflect on your actions,” the Matron sneered.

Nailah stepped forward. Her body was thinner, her movements slower, but something else had changed.

The Matron’s eyes widened. “Oh, your hair!”

Nailah frowned. “My hair?”

She reached up and gasped.

“It’s white?! How?!”

Poor Nailah had endured so much in so little time that even her body bore the evidence of her suffering.