We walked toward the end of the hall, neither of us speaking. I was so lost in my thoughts about Lidia that we were almost in front of the last cell before I heard the rhythmic scrape-scrape-scrape.
Abandoning all pretence, I grabbed Oscar’s hand. We exchanged a terrified look before the last few steps and peering inside the dark cell. A filthy cot was bolted to the wall on the right, directly below the sad excuse for a window letting in a weak ray of moonlight.
But my eyes went straight to the figure crouched in the corner, scraping at the floor.