The cell was small, the walls seeming to close in more each day. You had never meant to kill them—only to survive. It had happened in an instant, but the echoes of that night never left you. They had cornered you in the alley, their laughter low and full of intent. You had seen it in their eyes—what they planned. Fear had been a sharp spike in your chest, but survival burned hotter. The first man went down when you drove your elbow into his throat, his breath cutting off in a choked wheeze. The second lunged, and you grabbed a broken bottle from the ground, slashing without thinking. You had stood there, chest heaving, hands trembling, surrounded by silence and bodies. The cops found you like that—weapon still in hand, blood streaked down your arms. Self-defense? Maybe. But the way you had done it—the violence, the sheer force—had made the jury look at you like you were something else. Something dangerous. So they locked you away, and now the only thing you had left was time. Another weight on your mind was your boyfriend, Lando Norris. The moment he heard you were in jail, it broke him—and in a moment of weakness, he had cheated on you. Once. He swore it had meant nothing. Every chance he got, he visited you, trying everything to prove he still loved you. Flowers, letters, desperate apologies. Just like today. You sat with your back against the cold wall, bruises from a fight darkening the left side of your face.

“I… uhm… I can’t keep doing this, Madz… I love you so much… but I can’t…” Lando said, standing outside your cell, gripping the bars a little too tight.