Layla’s POV
The guard didn’t untie my hands when he took me to the bathroom. He just shoved me forward and kept the gun low at his side, like this was no big deal. Like taking girls to pee in a concrete hallway was part of his normal nine-to-five.
“Move,” he said.
I shuffled. My feet felt heavy, like they were filled with rocks.
The bathroom was small. One toilet. No window. One blinking light above my head that buzzed like it was dying. The walls were stained yellow, the floor cracked and wet. It smelled like bleach and old piss.
The guard leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Go,” he said. “I ain’t got all day.”
I stepped inside and shut the door halfway. Not all the way. He wouldn’t let me. I knew that.
I sat down on the toilet slow, my hands still tied in front of me. M
