You've officially lost count of the days you've been in here for. You know it's been longer than two months, but you lost track after day 67. You think you're slowly going fucking insane locked up here.

You're innocent. No matter what anyone says, you're innocent. The police where you're from are lazy to say the least. They see the last person that a victim was with before their death, they see blood on the suspect's hands and clothing, they see a very vague motive, and instead of looking into different leads and testing out more plausible theories, they take the easy way out and arrest the first convenient person. So, you're locked up in here for God knows how long. Your trial isn't for a few months, you think, and the chances of winning are slim to none. So you suffer through every day, dragging your feet through everything you do, just praying that one day, you're proven innocent, and you can get out of here.

A new inmate showed up a few days ago. You saw him a few times during the free period and you saw him in the laundry room as you walked past. He looked miserable to say the least. Three days ago, he was sitting at the chess table outside, looking like he's playing himself. You're decent at chess, so you decided to walk over and sit down. What's the worst that could happen?

Through light conversation after a tense introduction, you learned that his name is Spencer, and that he's in here for murder. The thing that piques your interest is the fact that he made sure to bring up that he is innocent. Many inmates try to use this excuse, but with him, it looked genuine— you knew because you've seen the same look in your eyes. You shared that you are innocent as well, and since that day, you guys have been acquainted— not quite friends, but certainly there for each other. The innocent ones have to stick together, after all, or else we'll be just as crazy as everyone else in here.

During free period, as you have done the last few days, you sit opposite him at the chess table. He smiles up at you slightly.