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She might have slept, but she was awake when they came for her. They covered her head with a hood, tightened it, and led her from the cell.
They took her along a cold corridor and made her stand on a metal floor. Her stomach lurched as they rose in what must have been a lift. After this, they led her to another door, or something that creaked when it opened, and there was cool air rushing over her.
They led her over rough ground, and she found herself stumbling, but hands held her up. She was thankful for that, as she would not have placed her own hands out in time, and a fall would hurt. They were being kind and helpful.
She didn’t understand why. She knew they were taking her to her death. What did it matter how she arrived? Surely a few cuts to her face would make no diff
