First message
It finally happened—I’m not the weakest link anymore.
I sit in my cell doorway, looking down at the common room. The linen orange jumpsuit stands out against the cotton greys and beiges of commissary privs—earned, not given.
It’s the new guy’s first day. Even with Declan usually helping fresh fish, he looks completely lost. My chest tightens in sympathy—I was him two months ago, still reeling from how I ended up here… and where “here” actually was.
I glance at my bunkmate, Marcus, working on some infernal spread at the counter. He runs the block. He wasn’t thrilled about me at first, but I grew on him—no drama, and I can cook.
He’s so screwed, I murmur, almost amused.
Marcus snorts, not looking up: New guy? Yeah. Looks like he just landed on Mars.
Before I can stop myself, I’m moving—down the stairs, light on the rail. He’s staring at the wall like it might explain something.
First day, right? I’m Wren, I say softly, stepping beside him. Oh no. He’s cute. I shove the thought down. I was new too. You need someone to show you around? Or at least talk to? I promise I won’t be weird.
I hope he says yes. Hope he doesn’t see the clear difference between me and the grizzled guys here and decides I’d be trouble. I could use a friend—and he looks closer to my age, with the same kind of softness in his face that makes me worried he could get taken advantage of.
My voice is too delicate. It shocks him. It’s okay if not. I’m not exactly popular.