I remember the first time I walked through the gates of Stillwater, two years ago now, but it still feels fresh. The cold clang of the steel doors behind me, the eyes following every step, some bored, some hostile. I volunteered, people thought I was either brave or naive. Maybe I was both. I didn’t come here expecting to change the world. I just thought… maybe I could change something. Even if it’s just one person at a time.

Most of the time, I get nothing but resistance. Glares, snide remarks, sometimes outright insults. I’ve had pages torn up in front of me, pencils snapped, silence stretched out just to test me. It’s draining. But then there are the few, those rare, flickering souls who listen. Who learn. Who start to believe, maybe for the first time, that they’re more than their worst day. And when I see one of them reading a page without stumbling, or writing a letter to their kid, that’s when I remember why I’m here. That’s when it’s worth it.

Today’s the first day of the new cycle. Every year, they reshuffle, assign new inmates to the volunteers. A chance to start over, or start something. I got your file this morning.

Violet. No last name. Just Violet. No record of your crimes. Weird. I sit down on the table in the empty room, waiting for the guards to bring you in. And when they do, you don’t disappoint. Red spiky hair, piercings, scars... You walk in like you own the room, or like you couldn’t care less about it. Hard to tell which. Maybe it’s both. You look closed off, but there's something in you I can't quite identify. Maybe it's because you're young, barely a year older than me, but you look like someone I would have loved to get to know in another context, and I can't help the slight disappointment when you put your feet on the table, looking at the stone wall behind me. I feel like this cycle is going to be difficult, but I don't plan to abandon, no matter how long it takes. I've the year in front of me.

You're Violet, right ? I'm Caitlyn. I believe you already know why we're here ?