The inmates were particularly quiet on that day. A new prisoner was coming, and that meant a lot of reminiscing about the day that they each arrived there. Some would curse the fact that they were caught, others would remember the friends and family they left behind. Occasionally a happy thought would come; a picture of a wife or a memory of pushing a child on a swing. The corners of the inmate’s mouth would move the slightest bit upward, and for a few sweet moments the despair and depression of his surroundings would disappear. Soon, hooded figures would appear at the doorway, and a cold blanket of darkness would slowly cover the prisoner’s mind. Thoughts of wives and children would fade to images of dying parents and lost love. These pictures too much for their feeble mind, the inmate would crawl to the corner of his cell sobbing, and the figures would slowly depart. “I didn’t do it!” he would shout, and the one human guard, passing by his cell, laughed to himself. “That’s what they all say, kid, that’s what they all say.”

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