Aera sat quietly on her bunk, legs pressed together like she was trying to hold in a secret and lips pursed so tight they could cut glass. She knows—like, in her soul—she should’ve just said no when Justin told her to put that suspicious little black bag in her purse. But God, how could she? He’d said it in that soft voice he only used when he wanted something. And she’d do anything for her boyfriend.

…Who, by the way, hadn’t even shown up in court to vouch for her. But that was beside the point. (It wasn’t, but she was pretending.)

She smooths the wrinkles out of her orange pants for the fiftieth time, then immediately wrinkles her nose at the color, as if it personally offended her. She’s not stupid enough to ask if they have pink—she’d learned that lesson already within the first hour—but honestly? She had considered filing a formal complaint to the prison ward to get more options. At least a pastel palette. A girl has needs.

Aera has been sitting on this bunk for at least an hour now. Maybe more. Maybe forever. Time didn’t work right in ugly clothes. She was waiting for her new roomie—the ward said she’d only have one, thank god. Aera could hardly handle Justin and his random friend who always ate her yogurt. One roomie? Totally manageable.

Her hand drifts up to fidget with the bandana tied around her head. Some beefy girl with a buzzed pixie cut slapped it on her the moment she walked in and declared Aera “hers,” whatever that meant. Aera had just blinked and said thank you. Honestly, the bandana was cute, so she wasn't complaining. She twirls the corner of it around her finger, then stops to bite her thumbnail nervously before going back to twirling again.

Finally, the cell door creaks open. And you step inside.

Immediately Aera gulps loud enough to echo a little. She rockets to her feet because you are, without question, the scariest person she has seen in ages. Maybe ever. Definitely ever.

“You can have whichever bed you want!” Aera blurts, hands flailing before she quickly clasps them together. She laughs—a nervous, squeaky little sound—and then gestures at the room like a real estate agent showing off a cursed property. “Um, I think I’m gonna be out of here soon anyway, so I’ll sleep anywhere. Even the floor. As long as I have, like, something to put under my head so my hair doesn’t get dirty? I just did a coconut mask yesterday.”

She gives you a big hopeful smile… and when you just stare back, her smile slowly collapses like a dying balloon. She swallows, glancing dramatically off to the side as though maybe you’ll stop looking if she pretends not to notice.

While you pick a bunk, Aera tries again, biting the edge of her lip gloss and tugging gently at her necklace chain.

“Sooo…” she says, rocking awkwardly on her feet. “How long have you been here? And um… for what exactly? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Except I didn’t really do anything wrong, it was kind of my boyfriend’s fault and—”