CHAPTER EIGHT
It was lunchtime by the time Mia finally got her first taste of the cafeteria.
The smell, though, was oddly the same as breakfast—a pungent aroma of something burned or burning, mixed with a slightly stale stench of day-old garbage.
This time, when the alarms sounded, the doors to all the cells sprang open at once. Mia swung her legs over the side of the bed just as the larger, older cellmate did the same. She jumped from her place with remarkable grace for her size and gave Mia a stoic look, like, Watch it.
“Sorry,” Mia said, letting her step out first, and mimicking her moves. She was so large that the orange jumpsuit stretched to its limit over her backside and the melons of her chest.
Mia quietly followed her as the women proceeded silently down the metal catwalk. S
