Ana, 14, Donee

It was dark and damp and deathly cold. Ana wound a strand of hair around her finger. If she closed her eyes it was almost like she was back in her room, braiding Fatima’s hair. Fatima’s hair was nicer than hers. Softer. Braiding her hair was like twisting strands of silk together. Ana smiled. The memory felt safe and … More Ana, 14, Donee

Fatima, 17, Donee

Monday. Breakfast. Seven am. Fatima had a choice of muesli or yogurt. She sighed and took the yogurt. It was smooth and creamy, but she’d had it so many times before she could already taste the bland vanilla. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had something different. It was always muesli or yogurt. She supposed she … More Fatima, 17, Donee