After Faith ran until her lungs felt on fire, wheezing she fell onto cobblestone ground. Rubbing her legs on the hard floor, she felt the ground underneath her. Expecting a soft red carpet, not hard rock Faith painfully got up. Looking around, she saw a side of her dads mansion she had never seen before. She turned around to see a staircase leading towards what she typically saw in the building: red carpets and velvets and pictures and such. Turning back 180 degrees Faith pulled herself into the pitch black side of the building. She walked into the darkness and let the cool air swell around her. A tunnel formed around Faith and the more she walked, the more clear the lights in the distance became. Faith, thinking of the place as a dungeon walked up to the first torch out of the many that would follow. She continued to walk past all of the flames until the metal bars came into view. Staring at the bars realization hit Faith, and she strode forward as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. The jail cells came into view and soon so did the prisoners.

The white, skeletal figures that Faith’s dad forced into jail met Faith’s eyes. The ghosts ribs stuck out of their half-naked bodies revealing the toll taken on the prisoners from weeks of starvation. The cells reeked of manure and human filth from lack of hygiene. Horrified, Faith glanced around to see no guards but noticed the high tech movement trackers on each cell wall. Grateful to have peace to let out her emotions, Faith wept making no effort to wipe her tears from her eyes. Seeing the torture, her dad had made people go through while he laid back as Dictator made Faith lose her love for the only family member she knew left. Faith felt guilt for having faith in her always drunk dad thinking he had a good idea for once. Faith thought her dad’s plan would save the population, which is precisely what happened, but with the cost of human torture.

“It is okay honey.” one of the prisoners said weakly. Sniffing, Faith turned towards a dark-skinned, frail woman.

“I thought my dad had the right idea,” Faith convinced herself.

“You must be the Dictator’s daughter?” the woman cooed. Faith nodded. “Listen, you can’t blame yourself for giving into the Dictator’s promises. We all did. I mean you're only about 17 if I am correct?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Faith replied politely. Through the darkness of the room, Faith had found respect for this half-naked woman. Her loneliness was pushed aside for the time being.

“You're about the same age as my Willow,” the woman said, pointing to the cell next to her, “she is my daughter.” Faith looked to the cell next to the Mother to see a fragile, timid girl of the same age as her but living in another world. At only 17 years old Willow had found herself dying in prison. Willow waved at Faith as Faith did the same back.

“I am so sorry,” was all Faith could mutter out of her mouth. A loud silence screamed through the walls of the depressed jail cells.

Breaking the silence Willow’s mom said, “We lived in Pauper. My husband died when Willow was ten.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Faith cut in.

“That is enough sorrys for today sweetie, the death of Willow’s dad is done now. Anyway, because of my old husband’s death, I was paired with another man during the ceremony three years ago to have kids with. I never had kids with this man though, because he started to abuse me and my Willow midway through. Of course, no good mother would let this happen, so I stood up for us and Willow followed. We were sent to jail because of this, but I don’t regret anything. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had a kid with that maniac. Anyway, we have been in jail for over a year now according to Willow,” Willow’s mom said while gesturing to Willow’s cell. Willow had etched in tallies on her side of the prison wall; there was more than 365. Faith walked in between Willow and her mom’s cell.

“My name is Faith,” she said. “And I promise,” Faith whispered, “I will be right back.” Faith jogged past the torches, through the tunnel, and towards the staircase until she found her feet on top of the red carpet in the main part of the mansion. Unaware where she was Faith blindly followed the bright colored carpet until she found the sign saying “Dictator’s Office” pointing north. Knowing where she was going now, Faith soon found herself carefully opening her dad’s office door to see his hands collapsed on the keyboard of his computer, breathing hard and slow while bending his head back behind his chair. He hadn’t noticed she had gone. For once Faith was grateful her dad was an alcoholic.