One more chapter to go!

Thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/followed/favourited! You guys rock and I'm glad you've been enjoying it because it's been a complete experiment.

I'll try to get the final chapter up tomorrow!

x x x x

I stumble blindly to the sink, clutching my stomach, my eyes still half-closed with sleep. I heave, evicting the little amount of food I managed to eat last night.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. My body is turning against me, the guards are watching me like a hawk and I can't set foot out of my cell without coming face to face with Harper's knowing smirk.

I take a few deep breaths, steadying myself against the basin. My own reflection stares back at me from the mirror, but I don't recognise it anymore. The woman who came in here was lost maybe; but she was also confident, cocky, beautiful even. The face staring back at me is worn, tired. Fearful.

I sink onto the bottom bunk and close my eyes against the pounding in my head, trying to picture Sara's face. It's been over a month since she came to visit me and I can still see the picture of sadness in her eyes as I left her cold.
I often find my thoughts wandering back to her these days. Where could she be now? Did she ever make it to her family at Christmas?

The sound of the metal gate grinding open at the end of the corridor tears me from my thoughts and the guards' heavy footsteps draw closer. It doesn't feel early enough for them to let us out, but then time is irrelative in here. It could be the middle of the night, it could be lunch-time … it doesn't really make a difference to us.

However, apparently my first instinct was correct as they don't begin to open the cells. Instead, they walk straight down the concrete hall and come to a stop outside my cell.

"Flynn." One of them barks, unlocking the grate and sliding it open. "Get your stuff."

I push myself up on shaky legs, using the bedpost to support myself.

"What?" I ask with a quivering voice, feeling another wave of nausea wash over me at the movements. Immediately, my first thought is that they must know and are moving me to another area of the prison.

Do they have a special place where they hide the knocked-up inmates?

"You're up for parole in an hour."

I must have misheard. My ears are ringing; my whole body shaking now. I'm sure one of them is speaking again, but I can't hear them anymore.

The last thing I see is the floor as it swims closer and closer until everything is black.

X x x

A gruff-looking woman in a grubby white pinafore is scowling down at me when I awake.

I am no longer in my cell. In fact, it doesn't even seem I'm in the prison at all. I find myself surrounded by empty beds identical to the one I am inelegantly sprawled across.

"Seven weeks." She announces harshly, quirking a disapproving eyebrow at me.

"Lucky she's not our problem anymore." I hear somebody mutter nearby, but it's too much effort to lift my head and seek out the source of the voice.

"What happened?" I manage to ask hoarsely.

"You collapsed." The nurse – or at least, I assume that's what she is – barks bluntly. "Pregnancy does that to you."

It's clear from her tone that she's not impressed but I don't have it in me to defend myself against her assumptions.

A tall, greying man in a suit brushes past her and into my line of sight.

"Catherine," he begins, clearing his throat. It strikes me that this is the first time I have been called my Christian name by anyone in this prison since the day I arrived. "Take a few minutes, get yourself together and we'll have your things brought to the office for you to collect on your way out."

I blink at him dumbly, certain that I must have missed something. The sensible thing to do right now would probably be to smile and nod, and leave this place as fast as my trembling legs will carry me; but if I was sensible I never would have ended up in here. Besides, you know what they say about curiosity.

"What's going on?" I inquire weakly. "I wasn't up for parole."

He shifts his weight and an awkward look passes around the group of gathered staff.

"We've received some information regarding your disciplinary action." He clears his throat again, adjusting his tie as if it was choking him. "We understand that your actions were in order to protect another inmate from prolonged abuse. Under the circumstances, we felt it is only fair to repeal the disciplinary action."

"You know?" I repeat, stunned.

"We are aware of an ongoing situation involving one inmate in particular and this will be investigated closely within the prison." He continues his well-rehearsed spiel, taking a tentative seat on the edge of my bed. "I'm sure you understand that this is a very unusual situation and should be dealt with internally."

I nod slowly, catching on. In other words, they're letting me go on the promise that I keep my mouth shut about what happened in here.

"I understand." I mumble, although the agreement makes my blood run cold. After all, why should I protect them after the hell they've put me through? He smiles tightly, standing up and dusting his suit off. Something tells me that this man is not accustomed to actually dealing with the customers of this place. If that's the case, they really must be treating this seriously.

"Good." He nods abruptly, clearly eager to get back to the sanctity of his office. "Well, good luck." Unsure of proper procedure here, I accept the hand he sticks out towards me before spinning on his pristine leather heels and stalking to the door.

"Um … what …" I begin hurriedly before he can leave, jolting myself upright so fast that my stomach twinges. He turns, cocking an impatient eyebrow. "What's going to happen to Har … to the other inmate?"

He clears his throat, standing up a little straighter.

"The inmate in question has already been removed to the isolation unit until a place becomes available on a more secure ward."

My heart settles a little in my chest at the thought that her reigns are going to be tightened from now on.

And who knows, maybe she'll get a shock when she gets locked down with the really tough inmates. I'd stake my life that she'll be no match for the murderesses and truly violent offenders harboured on the floor above ours.

She'll just be another piece of meat to them.

X x x

On my way through the reception area, a single lonely bag of meagre possessions clutched in my hands, I am reminded of the day I arrived here.

I had been struggling with withdrawal at the time so the memory is a little fuzzy, but I distinctly remember the dying plant which remains to this day sat on the desk.

I must admit, as far as appearances go I'm hardly one to judge at the minute.

I sign the papers and shove them back across the desk, not even bothering to check that all my belongings are present. The only thing I want to keep is still protectively stashed in my back pocket.

Pushing myself away from the desk, I catch sight of the guard who assaulted me in the bus. After everything that's happened between us, I still don't even know his name.

He can barely bring himself to look at me but I stare at him for as long as possible, trying to memorise his features. One day, they could be the features of my baby. Finally, I snap myself out of it and stride past him to the door. I almost think I hear him call my name; but I don't turn around as I swing the heavy metal door open, casting a beam of bright sunlight into the small office, and walk out of the prison.