The night passed slowly—and silently, except for our breathing. His was still slow and even, mine faster and rougher.
I didn't sleep, really, although I dozed off a few times, my head tipped back against the door, jolting upright in a panic after a few minutes each time.
I didn't dare to move, even to stretch out my legs. If he was chained, then presumably his chain didn't reach to the door, ensuring the safety of the guards when they opened it.
I didn't know the exact length of the chain, though. Pressed against the door with my feet tucked up so he couldn't lunge and grab my ankle was the only place I could be relatively sure of being out of his reach.
I started and blinked for the fifth or sixth time, and then blinked again.
The sun had come up, somewhere out there where there was sky and breeze and warmth and…I shifted my stiff, chilled limbs and rubbed the crud out of my eyes.
My cellmate came into focus.
