1.1

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The air from the abandoned tunnels infused the small space with hints of cinnamon, rust, and frustration.  Long-abandoned papers taped to the sides of the vent blew inwards, hinting at visitors past, as the white-noise generators shielded Juno from what she knew lay on the other side of the walls.

"They'll never make me talk.  For their sake, I can never talk," thought Juno, as she sat, curled up on her bed.

The metal frame and nickel fasteners attached to the bed jostled as leather straps gently fell off the swirled sheets.  Hints of professionally-swished cotton, metal trays, and muted sirens wafted through the barred window as Juno moved to the center of the room.

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