She'd only been there for a week. One week and she was already in too deep to ever be the same as she was before she went to prison. Her crime wasn't some illaberate plan that took moths of planning, or some huge drug deal, or even just robbing a bank. She had killed someone, not on purpose, but she had taken someones life. If she would have gotten her way, her evil asshole of a boyfriend would have been the one to have been shot, but no, she had shot an innicent bystander. Someone who could have gone on to live a happy, full, life. A life with children and love and happiness, but Trace Kihrt had died and his parents pressed charges. She had gone to prison for an accident and, boy, did it suck.
Judge Michaels, knowing it was an accident (due to lie detectors(Thank God they didn't ask about her ex)), reduced her sentence to seven years, $600,000 dollars bail. So, here she was, standing in front of Litchfield's women's prison, two officers on either side of her, pushing her forward towards the door, towards her new life. Life in prison.
