I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to come to terms with what I had just agreed to do. As I was led away, I couldn’t help but wonder how I had ended up in this position. And more importantly, how I was ever going to get out of it.
I never thought I’d end up in this orange jumpsuit. Even during the years when I was almost dying of poverty, I never considered breaking the law.
But now, Simon personally sent me to prison. His eyes were slightly red as he approached to hug me and I didn’t move away. “Zara, as long as you admit it, I’ll marry you when you get out,” he promised.
I nodded, pretending to be touched, then turned away. I couldn’t react to the man who had personally sent me to prison; I just felt exhausted, a tiredness that ran deep. The orange jumpsuit felt like a shroud, suffocating me with its vivid reminder of my predicament. The bars clanged shut behind me, a harsh punctuation to my life as I had known it.
I met Simon in high school when he was a bully who made my life miserable.