Red woke covered in sweat. Her back was in agony; all she had here was her flimsy mattress and one thin pillow. Unable to prop herself up like she usually did, she had been forced to sleep at an odd angle for weeks, and it was taking its toll on her back. Every muscle from her shoulders to her tailbone was throbbing in unison, tensing so that she could hardly breathe and then releasing painfully.

She told herself that this was why she was crying, because the pain was so intense and her nerves felt raw. Red knew that this was a lie, though. She'd had another nightmare. They had become routine by now, and she hadn't been able to sleep through the night ever since she'd arrived at Max. Ironic, she thought bitterly, the fucker is dead and he's still stealing my sleep.

This brought on a fresh wave of tears. Red hunkered down on her cot, drawing her knees to her chest as best she could, which had the dual benefits of helping to calm her and also soothing her muscles. Still, she couldn't stop the tears falling from her eyes, or the sobs that slipped from her throat.

There was stirring in one of the other beds, and Red's stomach tightened in fear. She didn't know which of her cellmates she'd awakened, but it didn't matter. One was a child molester and rarely spoke, to Red anyway, but the other had a temper that went off at every little thing, and the third was silent all the time. Not in a sweet, soothing, Norma way. This one's silence was the dangerous kind, and Red was more wary of her than the ticking time bomb who seemed to constantly be exploding.

"Shut the fuck up!" hissed a voice in the darkness. It was the angry one. Red briefly debated getting up from her cot and challenging the woman. She knew, though, how stupid that would be. She had never been in a real prison fight in her life. The closest she had ever come was with Vee and her gang, and that had mostly entailed getting her ass kicked without any opportunity to get in a blow. Red knew that, even on a good day, if she had to fight someone, she would lose. And with the way her back was now, this was not close to a good day.

Anyway, she wasn't sure that she had the willpower to put any effort into a fight. She hated herself for it, but Red was tired of fighting. Not only that, she had lost all faith in her ability to change anything, or to protect anyone, including herself. She'd spent so much time fighting anyone and anything that threatened her, and it was all pointless in the end.

She'd tried to fight Mendez, and she lost her kitchen. She fought Vee, and all she'd gotten out of that was almost twenty years of back problems and a face that made her look like she'd spent her life getting into bar fights. And then Piscatella…Red had thrown herself headfirst into defeating him, and she shuddered every time she thought about what she had gotten for that.

And so, instead of throwing back at her cellmate, Red simply curled herself up tighter, trying so hard to stifle the occasional sniffle that escaped her. She heard her cellmate shifting in bed again, and then felt something hit her, hard, in the back, bouncing off of Red and landing on the concrete floor with a thud.

"I said shut the fuck up, you old bitch. Don't make me come over there."

Red's fists tightened, and, just for a moment, she felt a surge of rage that almost had her leaping off of her cot and striding across the cell to rip the other woman out of bed and kick her senseless. That passed as suddenly as it came, though, and Red just rolled over to face the wall, staring at the cinderblock and crying silent tears.