That smile makes Nicky’s heart skip a few beats. ”Shit, kid, that does sound like a fucking crazy ass house! How the fuck do you manage to survive with that many people and not wanna beat the hell outta them?”

”Cause’ they’re my family…and I love my family,” the brunette quietly says, fixing her gaze downward. ”I miss my family,” she says, mostly to herself as she stares at her food.

Nicky sighs. She gives a gentle squeeze to the short woman, feeling bad for making her sad. ”I know, kid. It’s gonna be okay, though, you have us now…at least until you get outta here. We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” Her voice is quiet so that only Lorna can hear her words. She gives a small kiss to her forehead and pats her hand.

Finally, a few weeks into her three-year sentence, Lorna is given the same beige clothes as the rest of the prisoners and assigned to her permanent place of residency. When she sees whom she will be rooming with, a lump forms in her throat. She places her stuff on the empty bed and begins to make it.

”Oh, joy – I get the happily-engaged Catholic woman as my bunk-mate. It must be my lucky day,” Boo sarcastically retorts, rolling her eyes in irritation. She hates the thought of having to be stuck with such a person for god-only-knows how long.

Lorna keeps her mouth shut as she tends to her bed, carefully smoothing out the blanket and fluffing her pillow. She likes order and neatness; it’s something her mother enforced within her as a child. A clean home is a happy home. That was always Stansie Morello’s motto, which is now passed onto Lorna.

”What’s his name anyway?” The older inmate asks.

Dismay displays slightly on her face. ”Whose name?” She asks, but then realizes Boo’s asking about her fiancé. ”Oh, uh, it’s Christopher. Yeah, he’s a real good man. Would do anything for anyone, that Christopher,” her voice trails off, not wanting to talk much more about it. She grabs a small photograph—the only one she brought with her—and stares intently at it.

”Figures,” she grumbles, getting up off her bed and making her way to the door-less entrance. ”Well, lucky you—you get the cube to yourself now. I have better things to do than to sit and listen to your hetero—gag me with a spoon—love life shit.” The short-haired woman chuckles as she leaves the room.