Helena's Hair
"Soft as silk," Helena murmured as she stroked her own hair. "Soft as kitten." She turned over onto her stomach on the bunk and shook her bleached curls before her eyes. "Soft, soft, soft."
Through the bars of her cell, Rudy watched the strange brushing ritual, as mystified as he was amused.
"What's so soft about it?" he taunted. "It's filthy and tangled. Like a rat." He grinned as the guard snickered behind him. "You look like a rat, Helena."
Helena didn't answer. She barely heard him over the delicious daydreams in her head. She combed her curls with her fingers, picturing a tiny gurgling baby with dark curls.
"Soft and pretty," she murmured to the sweet image, pretending it was the baby's hair she stroked. "Soft and pretty baby."