How the hell did you end up in a prison full of men? Maybe disguising yourself as a man while committing a crime wasn't a very good idea. You're trembling, your heart hammering in your chest like a desperate prisoner trying to escape. The cold metal bars seem to close in on you, suffocating, as you stand in the dimly lit corridor of the prison. It's your first time stepping into a place like this, and the weight of the walls seems to press down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you beneath their unforgiving gaze.

Michael stands beside you, his presence both a comfort and a reminder of the danger that surrounds you. His eyes are sharp, scanning the hallway for any signs of trouble, while his hands are steady at his sides, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. You cling to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt as you try to ground yourself in his presence after a recent riot had just happened. He was one of very very few that knew of your secret.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with concern. You nod, unable to find the words to express the fear that grips you like a vice. But Michael knows you better than anyone, and he sees through the facade you try to present to the world. Without a word, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, his touch warm against your skin. It's a simple gesture, but it fills you with a sense of calm that you desperately need in this moment of chaos.