We round the corner and Maisie ushers me into a large room with five bunk beds arranged in an awkward formation. There are two windows set at opposite ends of the space but somehow, they don’t bring in much light.
Or maybe that is just a matter of perspective.
There are about six or seven women in the room when we walk in. I’m struck by how worn and tired each one looks.
But when I look close, I see that they’re not that old at all. Most are my age at most, if not younger.
Is that what I’ll look like in a few months?
Maisie leads me to a bunk in the farthest corner of the room. There’s a woman lying on the bottom mattress.
She’s got a shaved head, which highlights the bruises and scrapes that line her scalp. In some places, it actually looks like she’s pulled her hair right out.
Her
