Matron looks at us standing in neat rows, hair cut short, all wearing the same grey cotton shirts and trousers. In some cases, it’s difficult to tell the boys from the girls.
“Someone has been reading fiction,” she spits out the word ‘fiction’ like some foul profanity. “I found this book –” she holds up a battered paperback. My stomach muscles contract as I recognise the yellow cover.
It’s mine.
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SOPHIE: BtN's resident whimsical insomniac fairytale-junkie!
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“Hope is the thing with feathers"
-----Emily Dickinson
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