The cell smelled like damp cement and disinfectant that never reached the corners. The metal door clanged shut, and the sound reverberated in Charlotte's bones.
The guard didn't bother looking at her. “Welcome home."
Charlotte straightened. “It's temporary."
He laughed without humor. “That's what they all say."
---
It took less than a week to understand prison wasn't a place so much as a method—an education in subtraction.
Privacy went first. Comfort followed. Then dignity, stripped away in small, deliberate increments.
At morning line-up, another guard shoved her shoulder harder than necessary. “Keep your eyes down, Hale."
She kept them up. “Is that an order or a request?"
The woman's lips curled. “It's what keeps you breathing."
Later, over the thud of laundry carts, a letter c
