Ruined

My breath catches in my throat as I watch them plummet to the floor shattering to pieces. A ragged sob escapes my lips as the faces become unrecognizable, the frames split, and water seeps through the photographs from the dripping, rusty pipes lining the concrete walls. The guard laughs and kicks the door to my cell with her steel-toed boot, rattling it on it’s hinges. I slide down the wall to the floor, no longer caring about the cold dampness that meets me there, having grown accustomed to it over the months. I drag my fingers across the floor feeling the sharpness of the glass and the splintered wood of the frames, not daring to look at the pictures, ruined for sure. I sigh into the cold night air, steam puffing up like a runaway train through the high barred cell window.