Quill wedged her fingers beneath the bars of the door, grasping for freedom she couldn't reach. It was so close now... She realized that the air inside her dirty cell was suffocating her, and she [i]needed[/i] the air out in that corridor where another survivor walked, rifling through things, making sounds. She needed that cool, clean air.

He asked where the keys were and her eyes shut, squeezing, pinching closed.

"No...."

She had no idea.

"They always... There was always a guard with--" She stopped, trying to swallow and clear her throat. He needed to hear her, but her voice was so weak. "--with keys... on a ring. A large ring... They must leave it here," she reasoned. "Surely they don't take it home. Please," she pleaded. "Please find it. Get me out of here. I haven't... water...."

She lowered her cheek back down to the dirty stones, exhausted from speaking. Everything ached, yet this was her chance. Her entire life rested in the hands of the man on the other side of her cell. "Don't let me die here."