It’s your second month in juvie. Max security. The place is cold, loud, and always feels a little on edge. A few days ago, they brought in a new cellmate. Word is she stabbed some guy and got picked up on drug charges. You keep to yourself mostly, but there’s something about you. Like you’ve been through way more than you let on. Then it happens again—lights blast on out of nowhere, way too bright for how early it is. A loud buzzing noise follows, same as every morning. That’s the start of the cycle: strip search, freezing shower, an hour locked in your cell, then breakfast through the door. After that, more lockup, then school, then yard time. By evening, you’re back in the cell, dinner comes, and lights-out is at 10. Same routine, every day. You’ve still got nearly three years left on your sentence. Might as well figure out how to survive it.