AN: I just want to say before you start reading, if I have any info wrong here, I mean about women in prison, it's because I only just started researching prisons a while ago and plus I don't live in America. Regardless I hope you enjoy the story even if I do make some mistakes.

Summary Kate Austen discovers the hardships of prison life, when she is sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of her father. While there, she meets some faces you may be familiar with. Eventual SKate

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I can't really remember much of the trial. Not now, not with everything that's happened. The moment I heard the verdict ('Guilty', had to be, really) my life changed. It was as if someone had turned out the lights; I couldn't focus, the faces of everyone around me, including my friends, family, even my boyfriend's, they all became blurred in the moment I realised I was going to prison. I tried to imagine myself in an orange jumpsuit, shovel in my hand, digging or doing whatever women in prison are forced to do. I stared down at my feet, at my gorgeous prada shoes that I'd only bought two months back, and I almost laughed. To think that soon I wouldn't have to worry about looking good anymore. My hair, which during the trial was pulled up into a tight bun, would soon be hanging down past my shoulders, lanky and greasy, unwashed for days. I knew what to expect from prison. Atleast, I knew some of what to expect. I'd spent a day or so researching it a little while before the trial began. It had all seemed pretty horrific, and it should have been horrific to me then, but for the moment I was just in shock. I couldn't even breathe, nevermind think. All I could do was stand there, barely focusing, trying to ignore the faces of the people I loved. I didn't even want to look at Jack, the thought made me sick to my stomach. I knew he'd be looking directly at me, completely shocked. But we'd both known it was going to happen. As if I could have gotten out of serving time after what I'd done.

At first I'd thought (deluded as I was then) that I wouldn't actually get a life sentence. Maybe, since it was my first offence, the Judge would go easy on me. I'd hoped, and my hopes had been shattered when I'd discovered he had no sympathy whatsoever for me. Well, I couldn't really blame him. You weren't really supposed to have much sympathy for a girl who had murdered her own father. What had really shaken me up, though, was the fact that I hadn't even known he was my real father. All my life I'd been made to believe we weren't related by blood, until I found out the truth from her, a little time after I commited my heinous crime.

I didn't want to say her name again, or even think about her. I still don't. She was my mother, and she had still turned me in to the cops. Even after all the bruises, all the broken bones that asshole had given her. I told her myself that I felt no remorse over what I had done, and that was what had hurt her the most. I was glad. Maybe now I do feel guilty about it, but the way she turned me in without a second thought, that's something I've had to live with for the past twenty five years. She never appeared at the trial, obviously. My 'father' was there, or step-father. He was the second person I'd gone to after I'd killed Wayne. I'd been deluded enough to think he would cover for me, or something. Instead he called up my mother and we all sat down to talk about how I'd killed my 'own father' in cold blood. It wasn't a great day. I don't think I've ever cried so hard in my entire life.

After that, my mother never spoke to me again. I wasn't surprised to find out from Jack that she had chosen not to come to the trial. That was the other thing that broke my heart. Jack, the way he'd looked at me that first day of trial. It had almost killed me. We'd hardly seen eachother since the night my mother turned me in, since I'd spent all my time in custody. Still, seeing him just made things worse. His face was stony, as if he was trying to hide the heartbreak. It had been extremely difficult to look at him during the trial.

Well, I'd never predicted in a million years that I would be caught. It hadn't occured to me at the time. All I'd felt before the murder was a cold feeling I'd never experienced before. It wasn't anger, per se. Just... nothing. I felt nothing, no anger, no nothing. I was tired of seeing my mother being used. I wanted him dead, to end it all.

SLAM!

The sound of the Judge's gavel pounding against the sounding block brought me back to reality. I barely listened to what he said after that. I wondered what my lawyer's face was like at that moment. I didn't look down at him as I stood there, completely exposed as the murderer I was. Everyone was completely quiet. More words were exchanged. Then I felt two sets of arms grabbing mine. I allowed them to lead me away, though I can barely remember where they took me. It's all such a blur to me now. I only remember the shock beginning to kick in once we reached a dark coloured van. Before we set off, they cuffed my wrists. During the drive, I began to panic. I hadn't had enough time to prepare myself for this. I'd heard so much about women being beaten up in prisons, even being murdered by other inmates. The thought made me queasy, but I tried to shake it off. Still, the thought occured to me: what if the latter happened to me? How was I going to survive this?

When we arrived, I barely had time to see the exterior of the prison. I was led straight into a reception area, where my finger prints were taken, and vital posessions such as my cell phone were taken from me. Even the ring Jack had given me was taken. I was given the chance to shower before I was forced to stand, naked, while female officers took my measurements. Soon after, I was given a gray, dull looking uniform. I dressed quickly without a word, under supervision from another female officer. After what felt like hours, I was finally led by the same female officer to my cell (slash, new home). My legs nearly buckled as I walked down the long corridor, which was surprisingly quiet. Maybe this was because it was already way past ten o'clock at night.

Once we arrived outside the my newly designated cell, the cell door opened slowly to reveal a small 'room', barely roomy enough for one person. There was a set of bunkbeds in the corner, and a basin and what appeared to be the toilet right next to them. The wall was completely bare, as was the floor. It wasn't exactly my idea of paradise.

None of this made me very anxious. What did make me beyond anxious, however, was the fact that the cell was already occupied. My eyes found the vague but visible shadow of another person, laying on the top bunk. As I listened, I could hear quiet snores, indicating that she was already asleep.

The female officer turned to me, the hint of a smirk on her face. "Prisoners must be up and awake by four thirty in the morning, and no later," she said to me, "Breakfast is served at quarter to five in the morning. You will be assigned to a group at five thirty, and then your group will be assigned your jobs for the day."

"Group?" I wheezed, still trying to take in the fact that we had to be awake by four thirty.

"Yes, there are five women to a group. You must carry out certain jobs during the day. After completely your tasks, at five in the afternoon, you are permitted to go back to your cell."

Five in the afternoon? That meant twelve hours of work. I swallowed hard at the thought.

The female officer didn't say another word. I walked slowly into my cell after being told I could do so, trying as hard as I could not to make any noise whatsoever so not to wake up my new 'cellmate'. I didn't get a good enough look at her, since the lights in the corridor were considerably dim. All I could see was that she had dark hair, and could have been shorter than me, though it was hard to tell.

I barely slept that night. That first night was, to my knowledge, the longest night of my life. Every now and then I would hear grunts from above me, which made me even more on edge. I tried to imagine what life was going to be like from now on. I didn't have any priviledges anymore. Not to mention, I was no longer Kate Austen. I was now 925, the number imprinted on my dull uniform. I didn't even have a name anymore, or a reason for existing.

Time passed slowly, and before I knew it I was being shaken roughly by the shoulder. I looked blearily to my left, and found myself face to face with her.