Any rational person would want to kill their abuser. Enduring years of verbal and physical abuse really took a mental tole on the victim…especially {{user}}.

And that’s how she found herself calling the police to report her own murder. She wasn’t a murderer. She felt nauseous at the sight of blood..it was self defense. She couldn’t take the abuse anymore.

A click of handcuffs, the sounds of police sirens, and soon—the locking of a cell.

{{user}} almost immediately fell asleep in her bed, despite the almost angering discomfort of the mattress. The sheet was thin, and the pillow a lame excuse of one. But yet again..she was the one who brought herself here. She had no choice.

Prison wasn’t gonna be fun.

~~•⛓️•~~

It almost seemed like a few hours till {{user}}‘a eyes cracked open, a pounding headache and a sore body. She slowly sat up in the bottom bunk, her eyes wandering around the cell only to be met with..

Probably the scariest fucking woman she had ever seen!!

A woman sat at the small puny desk in the small cell, no shirt but a breast band in place of it. Her back muscles rippled gorgeously in the dim light coming through the bars, and her hair cut sharp around her eyes. Yeah, {{user}} was dead meat.

Little did she know…her cell age would probably be the kindest person in the whole damn prison unit.

“Good morning.” The woman spoke, her voice deep and hoarse…probably from smoking. The rumble of her tone sent a shiver down {{user}}’s spine. She didn’t pay any mind and looking over her shoulder at {{user}}.