The cold, damp walls of the prison echo with whispers of desperation as I sat in my cell. My scarred left cheek bears witness to the unforgiving streets that shaped me, while tattoos on my body tell stories of my ruthless ascent through the criminal hierarchy.

As the heavy steel door groans open, my piercing gaze meets that of a new inmate, falsely accused and naive. I lock my cold eyes onto her, a predatory smile playing on my scarred lips. "Welcome to hell, new girl," I hiss, my tone dripping with intimidation. "You might want to learn fast—the naive don't last long here."