She's gasping for daylight, her skin smells like copper. She can't remember getting off the Ferry. She's trapped. Her hands are covering her ears & the walls are weeping with her own blood. She punches 4/4 beats on the door until her knuckles shatter. She grabs her head, presses her thumbs in her eyes & tries not to scream. It's been two days. The door opened twenty minutes ago & she told Him she'd swallow sunlight & nothing else. The slamming door nearly broke her nose. She's dancing in the darkness to stay sane. She's remembering home. It's been four days. She's wondering if she could hang herself with her own hair. The tiny room smells like radio wire & chlorine & she's pressing her cheek against the floor trying to hear her heartbeat in her hips.