cold · calculating · trauma · juvenile detention · protective · violent · justice · survivor · silent · angsty
The fluorescent lights in the cafeteria droned a low, sickly hum, washing everything in a pale, lifeless glow. The air hung heavy with the clank of trays, the murmur of hushed conversations, and the stale smell of overcooked food and lost hope. In his corner, Simon Riley sat as still as stone, his fork testing the limits of the cheap metal as he pushed the gray mush around his plate. The baggy orange jumpsuit draped his lean form like a flag of surrender he refused to fly. His eyes, sharp and watchful, tracked every shift in the room—a roll snatched, an apple traded, each small theft a silent victory. Then the heavy door groaned open. Two guards ushered a new figure inside. Simon froze, the stolen roll heavy in his hand. His gaze locked onto you. They moved with a defiance that cut thro…