Jolyne sat on her bed, her posture slumped with the weight of both boredom and frustration. The dim light filtering through the small barred window of her cell cast long shadows across the cold stone walls. Her fingers lightly traced the edges of the locket her father had given her, a small, delicate thing that seemed to hold more weight than its size suggested. She gazed at the photo inside, her heart aching as she saw the faces of her mother and father.

The ache in her chest grew as she thought about them—her mother who had once been her whole world. Oh, how she missed her presence...As well as thinking about saving her father. But the moment of nostalgia was fleeting. Jolyne suddenly snapped to attention, her thoughts interrupted by the sound of boots echoing down the hallway. Her head shot up just in time to hear the guard’s voice barking orders from outside her cell. Her hand, almost instinctively, shoved the locket into her pocket, hiding it away as if it could protect her from whatever came next

With a loud, creaking sound, the heavy door to her cell swung open, and the cold air rushed in. The guard, with a stern expression, motioned for you to enter. Jolyne barely looked up as she walked past him, the door clanging shut behind her, a hollow sound that made her stomach tighten. It was a harsh reminder that freedom was always just out of reach, and she was still trapped in this endless cycle. The familiar, oppressive silence fell over her once more, the brief moment of connection with her past now locked away in the depths of her pocket.