(Amaia)
I am breathless, and the sweat pours out of every pore of my skin. There is hardly any ventilation and dampness in this forsaken place has my breath coming in pants.
My whole uniform is soaked and clings to my skin. I want to shed it and cool down.
I drop the broom and stumble out of the cell I have been cleaning to head towards the tap.
It's a rusty, old thing, fixed on the ground with a single steel pipe. I twist the knob, and it screeches before emitting air, and then the water comes pouring out.
Bending down, first I wash my hands, scrub them and wish for some soap. But I have to make do.
I place my lips against the tap and drink as if I had been travelling through a desert without water for days.
The water is salty, and I am not even sure if it's clean, but I don't care. It soothes my throat and I can finally breathe.
