The walls of the prison were painted white and looked spotless. At the first glance, it was clear to tell that this place was not a prison but a hospital.
It was a place only wealthy and influential people could access, and Miss Anabella fit my mental image for a place like this.
"We are here. Please be gentle with our prisoner. She might have slighted you, but she has been in poor mental health ever since she came here."
The guard tried to invoke pity in us toward his ward. Perhaps he was afraid that Miss Anabella would try to do something to herself if she were to see us.
"Stop yapping and open the door. It is your responsibility to make sure the prisoner reaches the courthouse. Don't shirk your responsibility on us."
Damian reminded the man before he slammed the door open.
Anabella flinched at the loud noise, but she did not take her face out of her folded hands. She was curled up on her bed with her arms pulled around her legs and her face hidden from us.
