In prison there are a lot of nights where you might find yourself laying awake at night, a million thoughts running through your head. In your mind you tell yourself to sleep, but that only makes the process take longer.

I'm not sure what it was that struck me that Tuesday night at two in the morning, but all of a sudden it all became real. Prison, my mother, my pregnancy- it was all clear. Before that night it all seemed like a movie or something. Everything had gone just wrong enough that it was almost comical. I'm not saying getting pregnant was wrong- although it certainly fucked things up.

I sat up, glancing at Gloria sleeping soundly in the bed across from mine. Truthfully, it was more like a cot. A really shitty cot that made your back ache and the springs creak with every movement.

I stood up slowly, creeping across the floor in my bulky prison socks. It smelled so bad in that room. Despite working showers, when dozens of women spend years in one room, things get stinky.

I crept down the narrow walkway to Piper Chapman's bunk. Her roommate was Red, which only meant I had to be extra cautious not to piss anyone off too badly. Fortunately, per usual, Piper was awake, reading a fat book by some author with a liberal sounding name. I grinned. Typical Chapman.

"Piper," I whispered. She peered over her book, her head blocking her dim reading light, casting shadows on the concrete walls. "Are you awake?"

"Kind of hard to read while asleep," she closed her book, setting it on the nightstand. "And for the record, you called me Piper."

"I know," I sighed. "I think the whole 'call-each-other-by-our-last-name' thing is stupid."

"I do too," Piper sat up, making room for me on her cot to sit. "Anyway, what's up?"

I checked Red's cot to make sure she hadn't woken up. Still, she was deep under the covers, snoring softly. "I wanted to ask you about Larry."

Piper raised her eyebrows, clearly taken off guard. "How do you know about him?"

"It's a small prison. News travels fast."

"Good point. Okay, continue. What would you like to know?"

I inhaled deeply. Piper and I had never been close, and I suddenly felt gross for asking her personal questions about her ex-fiance. "Did you ever worry that when your sentence ended, life with Larry just wouldn't be the same?"

"Of course," she didn't miss a beat. "Despite what you initially tell yourself, prison changes you. You come in and leave a different person."

"Can't argue with that."

"Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if John will still like me once I leave."

Piper touched my arm sympathetically. "Don't compare your relationship to mine and Larry's. He and I, we're apart literally everyday. Those bullshit visiting hours don't count. That's not life. But you and John- please, you'll be fine. You see each other constantly. Keeps the chemistry flowing."

I smirked. "I'm surprised you're so optimistic."

"Cautiously optimistic, my friend," she laughed. "I'm not saying you won't have your downs. But don't stress."

I carefully stood up, noticing Red was starting to stir. "Thanks, Piper. And by the way, get some fucking sleep. You have all of prison to read that damn book."

I headed back to my bunk, surprised to see Gloria sitting up with her reading lamp on. She was clearly waiting for me, and she didn't look thrilled.

"You're awake," I said nonchalantly, settling back into my cot.

"So are you."

"Not for long," I smiled like everything was fine.

"Daya, cut the bullshit, I can smell it from a mile away," she glared at me. "Quit bitching to Chapman about you and white boy."

"Gloria-"

"Shut up. Look, I was in the kitchen before bed."

"So?"

"So, the kitchen has a vent connected to Healy's office. I can hear all the shit that goes down in there. It's my source of entertainment, if you will. Anyway, I heard John in here telling Healy about his dad dying."

"Right," I nodded, "of cancer. It was expected. He told me a few days ago."

"Let me finish," Gloria rolled her eyes. "He mentioned something about getting this huge inheritance from his dad."

I raised an eyebrow. John hadn't mentioned anything about that. "Inhertiance, as in, money?"

"Yes Sherlock, that's what inheritance means," she swore in Spanish.

"I don't understand- John told me his dad worked as a mechanic. They were always poor."

Gloria shrugged. "Guess not. Healy said something about John being able to quit his CO job."

My mind was racing. Had John blatantly lied to my face about his wealth as a child? And why would he quit his job? It's the one way we get to see each other.

"If you're bullshitting me, I swear to God-"

"Relax," she swatted the air. "I may be a bitch, but I ain't no liar. Ask him yourself mañana."

Without another word, Gloria switched off her lamp and went back to sleep.

½ Chapter