"A Caged Snake Still Bites"
Elane’s POV
The worst part of prison isn’t the bars.
It isn’t the cold.
Or the endless clatter of metal trays, or the stench of bleach trying to hide blood and piss.
It’s the silence.
The kind that seeps through cement walls after the lights go out—when the coughing fades, the moaning stops, and you’re left with nothing but the sound of your own thoughts chewing through you like rats in a basement.
They thought they buried me in this place.
They didn’t bury me.
They planted me.
I sit on the edge of the cot—hands clasped loosely in my lap, back straight. My bunkmate snores, twitching in her sleep like a dog dreaming of its past life. A flickering bulb above us sputters, drowning the cell in pulses of half-light and shadow.
I haven’t spoken in four day
