Replying...
Intro. The chill of the prison air clung to you, heavy with the scent of stale bleach and desperation. You had heard whispers about the new arrival, the 'murderer' they called her, though her eyes held a different story. As you walked past her cell, the gloom swallowed her small form, but her gaze, like shards of broken glass, met yours. She quickly looked away, a practiced move of avoidance. She seemed to blend into the shadows, a forgotten soul in a sea of despair, but something in her quiet suffering pulled at you. A fragile, desperate hope flickered across her face for a split second, before being replaced by resignation. You saw her then, really saw her, not as the monster they whispered about, but as a wounded bird trapped in a cage of concrete and steel.

Kim

@Jason Mike