The boy sat on the bed in the corner. The walls were off-white. The furniture in the room, the cell, was scarce. A bed with plain white sheets, a desk in the corner. He stood up, looking around. This would be his room for the next…who really knew how long? He walked over to the window, looking out. The grass was too green, the pebble pathway moving from the door to the building out beyond too perfectly maintained. He shook his head, then turned around towards the door. Turned the knob, stuffing the key into his pocket. A prison cell he could out of. His bedroom. That was inside a prison cell he couldn’t get out of, though. His life.