Solitary Confinement

Solitary confinement. The term doesn’t really do it justice. When you hear the words spoken you perhaps conjure a vision of a small, dark, windowless cell, with a heavy door and once that door slams you’re alone; cut off from light and sound; a form of sensory deprivation.
If it was like that it would be easier; you could get used to the solitude; to the roaring sound of your own thoughts. But that isn’t the way it works. The cell is bright and airy with its own toilet cubical and even a window that opens out onto the exercise yard below so that the sounds of the other inmates enjoying that little piece of freedom; the luxury of human company even that of someone you hate; everything that you are denied.
You have room to pace, a soft bunk to sit on and contemplate what they have taken from you and if you stand on the edge of the bunk stretching so hard that it’s painful you can just make out the men moving around in the yard below. And you will; every day despite the torture of the pain in your thighs and calves, or the constant reminder of what they’ve taken from you – you’re body will only accept so much sleep.
That’s when you start to consider that they can beat you, that you underestimated them. But you’re strong. You didn’t break all those times when Gram used to stuff you into the cupboard under the stairs for being a ‘little bastard’. That had been solitary confinement; no light, no sound and no room to move. And if she forgot about you then you’d have to piss yourself because you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You’d thought about breaking then; of begging her not to put you in there anymore but that was what she wanted and you’d never give her that.
Instead you sneaked the empty squash bottle into the cupboard, stashing it away for when you’d need it and then the silent darkness wasn’t so bad you came to enjoy the time locked away from the noise of the world; it made you stronger.
As hard as she tried, Gram never did break you. That’s what you thought when they threatened you with solitary confinement – bring it on!
It isn’t what you’d expected though; they’re breaking you by showing you what it is they’ve taken from you.
When the next exercise period comes you’re ready; the window is tightly closed; muting the sounds from below. You lie down on the bunk, resisting the urge to go to the window, and gently place the pillow over your face. It’s dark now and the only sound you can hear is your own breathing. The world outside ceases to exist, closing into that small, dark, cupboard with only your own thoughts for company. You’re home.