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"If you have any special problems,",[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Warden Brannigan said, "I mean, if I can help you in any way,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I want you to come see me." Even as he spoke,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], he knew how hollow his words were. She was young and beautiful and fresh. The bull-dykes in the prison would fall on her like animals. There was not even a safe cell to which he could assign her. Nearly every cell was controlled by a stud. Warden Brannigan had heard rumors of rapes in the showers,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], in the toilets, and in the corridors at night. But they were only rumors, because the victims were always silent afterward. Or dead.
Warden Brannigan said gently, "With good behavior, you might be released in twelve or---"
"No!" It was a cry of black despair, of desperation. Tracy felt the walls of the office closing in on her. She was on her feet,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], screaming. The guard came hurrying in and grabbed Tracy's arms.
"Easy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," Warden Brannigan commanded him.
He sat there,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], helpless, and watched as Tracy was led away.
She was taken down a series of corridors past cells filled with inmates of every description. They were black and white and brown and yellow. They stared at Tracy as she passed and called out to her in a dozen accents. Their cries made no sense to Tracy.
"Fish night..."
"French mate..."
"Fresh mite..."
"Flesh meet..."