I was feeling some kind of premonition: I was not supposed to be there, and everyone, everything that could exist behind the forged iron it would be for sure a danger. I felt panic frightenedly running through my veins and I started thinking cautiosly what I was supposed to do.
Suddenly, all my doubts disappeared as abruptly as they had emerged. I placed my hands on the damned door and I pushed with all the strengh panic hadn’t stealed me, the little amount of vigor in middle of an enourmous concoction of numerous emotions.
But any kind of sentiment can be used to described how I felt when I entered to the room I had been waiting to be during so much time and I saw what it guarded inside.
* * *
-Any kind of romance can convert you both good and bad person in short time. It makes you... vulnerable. –Joey rumbled words instead of talking normally.
He was always of bad mood and he repulsed me. Always froaning with those thick balls of hair he had as eyebrows, never sharing a smile.
That jail was pungent. It was plenty of dirt and completely dry. And I had a mad curmudgeon for share it.
I didn’t completely know why I was in that prison, I didn’t know what had been happening for the last three months at all. Altogether went so quickly that my brain hadn’t got time, space, to think carefully before acting. And I was paying the price of temerity next to Joey.
Suddenly, the jail’s door opened, making an unpleasant creaking at scrubbing with the moldy stone floor. More nasty the face that opened the gate. The jailer. How many tooth were last? Three? Clearly resistant tooth. I was very curious to know why a large bloody scar was desfiguriting the half face that was not burned. But the eyes were the most horrifying point on his appearance.
Surprisingly, his expression didn’t reflect his emotions at all. Because he brought me home.
Martina Llop Salas
Artà
14-04-2013
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