In a small, dark, dusty jail cell, was a fifteen year-old girl, sitting on an old cot, facing the wall. Her left ankle chained to the floor, the chain just long enough for her to move around her tiny cell.

To her left, was a small, ratty, old blanket that looked as if it might've been blue, or maybe purple once, perhaps it was a blanket meant for a small child, but now the color had faded to almost white, and it was threadbare and full of holes.

To her right, was a pillow. Or what used to be. It was ripped in several places, over half the stuffing had fallen out, and the darkness of her cell gave it a faded gray look. Or the pillow was just dirty. She never had enough light to be able to tell. 

Underneath her cot were two cardboard boxes. One box held her clothes; underwear, two pairs of dark gray thigh-high socks, two light gray t-shirts, two pairs of black shorts and an oversized black hoodie.  She was currently wearing clothes identical to the ones in the box, except no hoodie. Though her style never changed (literally, the same outfit every single time, just in a bigger size), she was glad they at least brought her new clothes whenever she grew out of her old ones. 

In the second box, was her hair brush, a half used tube of toothpaste, her toothbrush, deodorant, one and a half rolls of toilet paper, two new bars of hand soap (one slightly used), a bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo and body wash that was a little over half empty, a roll of small trash bags, and a bottle of laundry detergent.

Across from her was an old concrete wall full of tally marks. One for each day she had been held here. Six years, four months, two weeks and three days. A total of two thousand, three hundred and twenty-eight days. 

To the right of her cell, was her "bathroom". In one corner there was a shower head hanging from the ceiling, two handles to turn it on (hot and cold, but all she ever got was cold and freezing), and a drain for the water. The shower was also used as her "washing machine" (though really she was the machine, the water just rinsed out the soap. Across from the shower in the other corner was a toilet, and hanging next to it, was an old, ruff gray towel hanging on a hook. Next to that towel, was a sink with no mirror. Which she hoped was about to change. 

Last week, she had asked one of the scientists if she could have a mirror for her cell (she'd learned early on that if she cooperated, she'd get some privileges). She hadn't seen her own reflection in over six years! She couldn't even remember what she looked like. She only knew the obvious things, like how she had dark hair that was a couple inches past her shoulders and bangs (they gave her the same hair cut every year), and pale skin. 

She yawned. She was tired. She was pretty sure it was still night time. She lay down, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.