The prison guard pushed Paulina Stone on her back, and she stumbled through the front gate, nearly falling to the ground. Normally, she would have yelled endlessly at the man who treated her that way, but she was so disheartened right now. This trial had destroyed her.

A bell rang, and the gate closed behind her. Paulina stood there motionless, her head bowed, as the guard handed over her file for processing. She had already been locked up at the police station for custody and questioning, but this time that was a whole other arena. She was going to end up with real criminals.

She still couldn't believe it. Her lawyer had been confident that the absence of the murder weapon would be enough to dismiss the case, and Rafael had testified on her behalf. But then, they brought up the photo that nurse had taken where she was covered in blood, and the story of the stolen luxury bags. Okay, it was a repeat offence, but it had nothing to do with the murder!

Nothing had gone as planned. Why had she tried to look after Leonard? She should have known that his habit of helping others would eventually get him into serious trouble. It was all is fault, and he couldn't even take responsibility for it now that he was dead.

I'm usually smarter than that.

The prison guard came back to her. He took her arm and led her into the next room. Paulina followed without resistance. A camera on a tripod was there.

"Stand against the wall," the guard said in a terse voice.

She obeyed. This would be her worst picture in years. She hadn't showered, her hair was greasy, no makeup obviously, and the light was horrible. Good thing it would never be put on her Instagram. Still, she had doubled her followers during her trial, maybe something this raw could buzz too.

"On the side," the guard continued.

The camera flashed. Paulina was still in disbelief, they couldn't lock her up for real, could they? There wasn't even internet in this place! Surely someone would come along any minute and say that this was all a mistake, and that she could leave.

"Hands," the guard said, approaching with a fingerprint reader.

Again? They'd already done this at the police station, was it really necessary to do it one more time? Anyway, she couldn't do anything about it? She complied. The guard registered the fingerprints without even looking at her. The previous time had been more pleasant to be honest. Detective Diego Martinez was much more handsome than this paunchy forty-year-old. Not that she was interested in him of course, policemen were even worse than other men.

"Go into the next room, a female guard is waiting there to search you.

Paulina smirked. This pig must be disappointed he can't do it himself. Too bad, jerk. There were rules, even in prison, and she would make sure they worked to her advantage. She had always been good at turning things around in her favor.

Until that monumental failure in court, that is.

She entered the next area, which was just another gray windowless room. The guard waiting for her gauged her harshly with her eyes, then told her coldly:

"Strip down completely, and no fuss. You'll soon learn not to mess with me!"

Why is she so worked up? Calm down sister, we're both women here...

Paulina slowly removed her shirt, then her pants, and finally her underwear. She folded them carefully. It was brand name! Especially the jeans which were worth more than five hundred euros. Even if she had to wait two years for her appeal, these clothes would not go out of fashion.

"Phone," the guard said dryly.

It was only then that Paulina realized that she had kept the phone in her hand. Over the years, it had become a true extension of herself, and she was reluctant to part with it. The long hours of custody she had to endure without it had been an ordeal.

The guard pulled out her baton and used it to lift Paulina's chin. "Put the phone down with the clothes."

She obeyed reluctantly.

"When can I have it back?" she asked.

"At the end of your sentence. And we don't keep those in the prison, so if you don't want us to throw it away you'll have to ask someone to come and get it."

What? No one had told me about that!

I usually ask Leonard for this kind of thing, but now that moron is dead…

"I don't have anyone to ask," she finally admitted. "Is there any other way?"

"No," the guard replied. "If no one comes for it in a week, we'll destroy it."

"That's not fair," cried Paulina.

"Here, I'm the one who says what's fair or not," say the guard impassively.

Shit, what was she going to do? Her girlfriends had drifted away from her during the trial, she wasn't close to anyone on the support committee... and she really couldn't contact her mother. It had been twenty years since they had spoken.

All her childhood, the old lady had told her she was going to mess up her life. Well, she had been right, and because of a man on top of that. At least she was in a women's prison, she didn't have to worry about them anymore.

"You know," the guard added with a smirk. "It'll be the same for the stuff in your apartment. Everything is going to be auctioned off."

All my things? Out in the open where everyone could see them?

She felt more naked than ever.

"Now, put your hands on the wall, and spread your legs."

"Why?" asked Paulina defiantly.

"I need to check your orifices for drugs or weapons," said the guard, pulling a large flashlight from her belt.

Damn, that's hardcore.

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Paulina came out of processing even more disturbed than she had gone in. She had been given a shapeless, gray outfit to wear, a blanket, a roll of toilet paper, a bar of soap, and a package of sanitary pads. Another inmate had been assigned to take her to her cell, as well as to give her an orientation tour.

Her guide was a skinny redheaded woman who might have been pretty if her eyes hadn't been empty. She was also remarkably quiet; she hadn't said a word since the guard had left them. Holding her equipment to her chest with both hands, Paulina followed her in a corridor flanked by heavy metal doors, trying to get her bearings.

"What's your name already?" Paulina asked, breaking the silence.

The inmate gave her a sidelong glance before answering in a tired voice, "Grace."

"What's behind those doors Grace?"

"The library, the sewing room, the computer room..." she listed as they passed.

"There's internet?" reacted Paulina at once.

Grace shook her head. "Not on these computers."

She should have known better, but she felt restless not being able to check her insta, not having the moral support she was used to. If only there was a way to access it. How did the other women cope with this loneliness? There wasn't much to do in prison... No matter, if they could, so could she!

Paulina and Grace arrived in the main room, which served as both a dining room and a lounge. It reminded Paulina of Alek's nursing home, with fewer old people, and more threatening-looking women. She had always despised him for living in these conditions, and now she found herself in the same situation...

"The meals are at 11 am and 6 pm," Grace said mechanically. "The gangs go first which allows them to eat lukewarm. Don't try to cut the line, if you're not a member you're in the back."

"What do you mean gangs?"

"The Ring, White Ghosts, and Queens of Africa. They control the prison."

"And the guards?"

Another sideways glance. "There are too few of them to do much, as long as we don't provoke them and cause too much trouble, they leave us alone."

A trickle of cold sweat ran down Paulina's back. Was the prison understaffed? She thought she was safe in here, but in fact she found herself at the mercy of the other prisoners. It was scary. Her lips began to tremble. She wanted nothing more than to take refuge in her cell and not come out for several days.

"Where am I going to sleep?"

"You've been assigned cell 14, on the ground floor. I'll show you."

They left the main room and walked down a wide hallway lined with cells on both sides. A musty smell hung in the air. On the ceiling, a loudspeaker crackled continuously. Several prisoners hanging around watched them pass in silence. Most were dirty and looked unhealthy.

"Why are you here?" asked Grace.

"Murder," replied Paulina without going into detail.

"Your husband?"

Paulina let out a nervous laugh. "Of course not, I'm a political lesbian. I don't fuck men because it perpetuates patriarchal oppression and violence against women!"

She was used to this statement being met with cries of admiration, but there was nothing in Grace's eyes. There's no way she couldn't know the values of feminism though? This was the 21st century, the media was talking about rapes and feminicides all the time!

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

An awkward silence settled between the two of them. Fortunately it didn't last long as they arrived at cell 14. The room was about 15 square meters. There were two bunk beds in a corner, two mattresses on the floor, a sink and a toilet. Nothing more. The whole place was filthy.

"You should get a mattress on the floor if you don't want to have any trouble. The bunk beds are probably already taken, and the other girls won't let you have one without a fight."

"You gotta be kidding me, right?"

"No," Grace replied with a shrug. "I know you've been convicted of murder, but you don't really look like a fighter..."

"There's not even a bathroom divider curtain!"

"Yeah, I know. The cells upstairs are better, but when you don't have connections... Let's continue, I have other stuff to show you."

Paulina looked desperately at her cell. She couldn't live in here. Why weren't the other women cleaning? And the guards? It was a nightmare, she would surely wake up any—

"Paulina," Grace barked, raising her voice for the first time. "Let's finish orientation."

She was distressed. Her eyes were vacant. She was only beginning to understand what her life here was going to be like. Exasperated by his behavior, Grace turned around and headed back to the main room. Paulina threw her things into a ball in the corner of the cell, then caught up with her guide. She walked like an automaton. The government was supposed to provide decent living conditions for prisoners, wasn't it? How could this happen? And why had she never heard of a feminist organization fighting for the rights of women prisoners?

Grace led her up a flight of stairs, then down a long corridor. They came to a room with a dozen landline phones hanging on the walls.

"This is where you can make your calls," Grace said in her tired voice. "Obviously, there's a list of authorized numbers, and all conversations are recorded."

"Obviously," Paulina repeated.

"In the next room, you have the commissary. You can buy food, cigarettes, clothes, and hygiene products there."

Paulina reeled and her mind snapped back into gear. "We have to buy our own food?"

"If you want something that tastes good anyway. The food trays from the kitchen are disgusting." commented Grace. "The officer in charge can open an account for you, and your family will have to deposit money into it. It usually takes a week or two before you can use it."

My family?

I have no family, and I have no money...

She had lost her job shortly after being charged with murder, and her savings had melted away. Between her loans, the lawyer's fees, and the court fine, she had nothing left. Where could she get money? She wanted ice cream, my God, she would kill for ice cream.

Maybe she could ask the support committee?

"And that concludes the tour," said Grace. "Good luck with the rest."

Paulina was in a panic. "Wait! Can't you stay with me longer, at least until dark?"

"No," Grace replied as inexpressively as ever. "I have some stuff to do before dinner. See you."

Paulina found herself alone. No one to talk to, no one to comfort her. That was what scared her the most. The loneliness. Instinctively, she reached for her phone in her pocket, but it was gone. The guard had taken it, and it was going to be destroyed. A nervous tremor ran through her hand before she regained control. It was going to be okay, she would figure something out.

She walked over to one of the phones hanging on the wall, and nervously dialed the university. A ringing sound came, then two, three... Paulina clung to the wall holding back her tears, someone had to answer her, she needed it.

Finally, a secretary picked up the phone, and she was able to have the call redirected to Dr. Christopher Boas' office. He had taken over her support committee. No doubt he could help her to get some money.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Chris, it's Paulina!"

She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

"What do you want this time?" asked Dr. Boas with a sigh.

Tcch, what a rude thing to say, I don't call him that often.

"I just got to the prison, and I could use some spending money for the commissary. Can you help me?"

She'd almost said please, but no, she didn't want to sound like she was begging. He would say yes anyway. Men loved to play white knight, flying to the rescue of women, that was their thing. And honestly, it was natural for them to do it, they had so much to make up for...

"No Paulina. This is the money to pay the lawyer's fees for your appeal, people didn't give it for you to shop in jail. There is already not much left considering the cost of the procedure you know."

Dumbass.

She hung up on him, and it made her feel a little better. How could he not understand what she was going through? He should have done something...

I'll call him again later, he will apologize and send me money then.

I'll ask him to get my phone too.

Strangely reassured by this call, she walked down the hallway towards the main room. It was 6 pm, time for the evening meal. Remembering Grace's advice, Paulina stood at the end of the line and observed those who jumped the queue.

First thing to note, they were cleaner and more personable than the others. There was a group of black women, probably the Queens of Africa. Another one of white women who had settled on the opposite side of the room, the White Ghosts. And a mixed bag of races in the middle: The Ring. Paulina didn't know what brought those together.

The whole gang thing bothered her deeply, she had always relied on female solidarity when she had problems. And women who resisted quickly fell in line when she reminded them of the common enemy: men. But here the rules seemed completely different.

When it was her turn, Paulina took her tray to eat alone in a corner of the room. She sat cross-legged against the wall, so she could keep an eye on the other women. Grace didn't seem to be there, and Paulina wondered what she could be doing.

There was a block of mashed potatoes, some mixed vegetables, a blended soy-based thing, and a piece of bread. It was cold. It was bland. Paulina forced herself to eat anyway. The cutlery was plastic, like for little kids' picnics. It was humiliating.

She continued to stand aside after the meal. Watching alternately the skirmishes between the different groups and the TV that the guards had set up for the inmates to watch a movie before curfew. She didn't dare talk to anyone.

Later, Paulina retreated to her cell and settled on a mattress on the floor, wrapped in her blanket. Her fellow inmates soon arrived, but she did not speak to them and avoided their gaze. The one who lay on the mattress next to her was a black woman whose smell of perspiration mixed with that of mold to give an explosive cocktail. A furtive glance allowed Paulina to see that she had lost several teeth. How horrible!

The guards closed their door for the night, and she stayed curled up there. Holding back the tears in her eyes until she finally managed to fall asleep.

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She woke up screaming as she felt something crawling on her skin. She sat up, shaking herself in all directions, and slapping her clothes to knock off the beast that had climbed under it. Her bed neighbor burst out laughing, Paulina could barely make out her form in the darkness.

"Calm down Fresh Fish, it's only a cockroach. He must have found you to his liking."

A cockroach?

Paulina slapped her clothes even more. She couldn't see if it was gone, black on black, the insect might as well have been invisible. Panicked, she didn't stop until several minutes later, when she became completely out of breath. She stood still, her mind on the lookout for the slightest movement on her skin. She relaxed only after long seconds, reassured that the cockroach was gone.

"You know, Fresh Fish. I had a rat in my bed once. He must have gotten lost. It was kind of cute, until it peed everywhere anyway."

No, no, no, that can't be real!

Paulina lay back on her mattress, against the wall, hugging her blanket as tightly as she could, not daring to go back to sleep. It was a real nightmare. And she couldn't get out of there, the cell was locked, the whole prison was locked. She was stuck for good.

Then her eyes fell on the space between on the side of her mattress, where she had put her toilet paper, soap, and sanitary pads. Her stomach tightened. She reached out to feel around. Nothing. Everything had been stolen.

She retched violently, and spat on the floor.

It was hell.

She would never last until her appeal.