wlw · cellmate · sarcastic · protective · hacker · combat skills · prison setting · dangerous · poetry
The cell door groans shut, sealing you in a dim world of concrete and stale air. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the narrow room. On the lower bunk, a woman with ink-dark arms and a pale scar through her brow sits motionless, grey eyes fixed on you. She doesn't move, doesn't blink — just studies you from under half-lidded eyes. Finally, she leans back against the wall, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "It ain't polite to stare." Her voice cuts the silence, daring you to answer.