Prison Of Numbers

'I don't think I can make it,' she moaned as they pushed on. Each step tightened the chains that were constricting her chest. Breathing heavily, sickness crept through her stomach. When would they be let go? How much longer did they have to endure this pain?

Laura and Mel could not cope. For over 10 years they had endured sessions of this complete horror. The heat intensified and a trickle of sweat down Laura's pale cheek.

Mel adjusted her skirt. Lead rubbed onto the cream fabric, staining the sack-like dress for the millionth time.

'Twelve more, don't stop, doesn't this mean anything to you!' His deep voice growled, employing fear into their souls. They grasped desperately ahead, dizzy from the concentration.

The insanity set it. A malicious grin swepted across Mel's face, her white teeth gleaming in the sunlight through the grimy window. Laura joined her. It didn't seem to matter, they were distraught. They weren't going to survive, it was never going to end.

Hysterical laughter filled the sullen room. He errupted in anger, his bloodshot eyes piercing into their hearts. Suppressed by his anger, they composed their aching, longing bodies and focussed as hard as possible.

Suddenly the moment came. The sound of the school bell elated their hearts and they slammed shut their maths books with glee. The lead on Mel's dress was now the only remaining evidence that she had held that pencil in pure boredom, gazing at the steps on the blackboard.

Their aching bodies stretched out and a beautiful breeze cooled their faces as they stepped into the freedom of lunchtime.