Kelly sat in her cell, reading a book. The “severity of her condition”, as the authorities put it, justified holding her in solitary confinement. She didn’t mind; she got some much needed peace and quiet, and besides, she had no desire to associate with the other inmates. A mental hospital was worse than jail; in both places, she could be reasonably sure the others were dangerous. Here, they had the added drawback of being insane too. Solitude was vastly preferable.

Her accommodations weren’t bad; it hardly even looked like a cell. The walls were painted brightly, she had a comfortable bed, and the toilet not only had a seat, but a lid. She got fresh towels, three passable meals every day, and an hour per day of solitary exercise in the yard. She made a list of books she’d like brought to her from home, and although she only got to read one at a time, and they hadn’t approved of any of the political texts, they otherwise had no objections. That was more than she could have reasonably hoped for.

The therapists annoyed her, but they were doing their best. They treated her possession as if it was some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder. It wasn’t really like that, but she didn’t feel the need to tell them. He was gone, and that was the end of it. The experience had mostly been pleasant, but she knew she didn’t need him anymore.

Kelly habitually scanned her eyes around the area, despite knowing she was all alone. She stared straight ahead, then suddenly sported a crooked smile on her lips, as a deep-voiced belly laugh erupted from her.