(Marcus)
The first week in prison was worse than I had imagined. The noise, the orders, the constant movement, it was overwhelming. I had thought I could handle it, that my mind and my control could give me an advantage. I was wrong. There was nothing here I could use. No charm, no money, no reputation. I was completely exposed.
The cell was small and cold. A thin mattress lay on a metal frame, the blanket rough against my skin. A sink and a toilet took up the corner. I sat on the bed, staring at the walls. Outside, the world moved on, but I had no place in it anymore. Every connection I had counted on now meant nothing. I was isolated in the truest sense.
News about my trial was everywhere. Every channel, every paper, every social media post displayed my crimes. Fraud, intimidation, ha
