A place called tomorrow

He spat in her face and left.
Too disgusted to wipe away his displeasure, she sat, wildly blinking.

The room was part of a larger cage. It wasn’t the volume of the prison, it was the severity that taught her to stop trying to escape. Hope was a fantastic weapon of distraction, but in the end, it only ever crumbled the heart.
The vast window she sat in front of was a lie. Although it looked like a window, it wasn’t. It was a thousand tiny windows. Each too small to escape from. The door was never much help these days either. She had bolted herself shut. Only the Master used her key.
So she sat, in her white palace above the park. Her elegant white metal bed chipped and dented from attempts to make use of the only solid object in the room. Again, this didn’t work.

Finally she cleaned her face of his disapproval and of her own.