The door, shut. The key, turning in the lock.
In prison, the world is smaller than I can imagine. There is nothing here. A bed of dirty straw, a bowl of stale water, a thin gray light moving across the floor of my cell. A young girl, myself, sixteen years of nerves and bones and blood, luck and will, determined breath and a still-beating heart.
They will hang me in the winter and I will hang dead in the snow. My face swollen, my spine broken, I will swing in the wind, in the wide open spaces of New France, and I will stand as a warning for all those who are born with nothing and wish for more.
- Prologue, page 1
What a way to begin a story. It drew me in quite easily. Review on Wednesday!