trap rose

He lay down, closed his eyes, and began to think about his future.

He knew life in prison would be difficult, but he was confident he could get through it.

He vowed to work hard to reform himself and strive to regain his freedom as soon as possible.

Night falls quietly, covering the earth with a mysterious black veil.

Li Xiaosheng was lying on the narrow bed in the cell, his posture stiff and his eyes empty.

His hands were tightly bound by rough iron chains, and the prison clothes on his body were already shabby, stained with mottled stains and traces of time.

The air in the cell was filled with dampness and darkness, as if it could penetrate into one's bones.

The moss on the walls gave off a sickening stench, and rats scurried about in the darkness, making shrill noises from time to time.

These sounds pierced into Li Xiaosheng's ears like needles, making him unable to sleep.

Li Xiaosheng was lying on the narrow bed in the cell, his posture stiff and his eyes empty.

His face was full of exhaustion and despair, and his eyes revealed a deep helplessness and helplessness.

The corners of his mouth drooped slightly, as if silently expressing the pain and anguish in his heart.

His hair hung loosely in front of his forehead, covering one of his eyes, making him look even more depressed and helpless.

He slept very restlessly that night.

the next day.

In the early morning, the prison was shrouded in hazy fog, like a sleeping world. The prison guards wore dark blue uniforms with silver police badges on them, looking solemn and mysterious. There is no unnecessary expression on their faces, only seriousness and seriousness. The batons swung gently in their hands, making a slight metallic clang sound.

The light in the cell shines through the iron windows, dappled and forming golden beams. These beams of light hit the rough walls and mingle with shadows, creating a dull and oppressive atmosphere.

The inmates in the cells wear uniform gray prison uniforms with white numbers printed on their chests. There was exhaustion and helplessness on their faces, and a deep despair in their eyes. They sit or stand, busy working. Some are making handicrafts, and the movements of their hands are mechanical and skillful; some are cleaning, and the brooms scratch across the floor, making a rustling sound.

In this small space, everyone's every move is particularly eye-catching. There is no communication between them, only silence and loneliness.

The morning breeze blew by, bringing a hint of coolness. The uniforms of the prison guards swayed slightly with their movements, as if telling an unspeakable story.

In a corner of the cell, an elderly prisoner sat alone on the bed, staring blankly ahead. His face was covered with wrinkles, like an old map, recording the traces of time. His prison uniform was stained, but its original white color could still be seen. He held a letter tightly in his hand. The letter was filled with dense handwriting, and every word was full of deep affection and longing.

In the other corner, a young prisoner was crying silently. His tears slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the gray prison uniform, forming a wet trail. He covered his face tightly with his hands, as if trying to suppress the pain in his heart.

In this environment full of silence and depression, everyone has their own story and struggle inside.