That was before

Prologue

Her heels click-clacked on the concrete floor, each step reminding Abby of her doom, and how her one little prank had caused so much trouble. Why had Rebecca Wilson even bothered to come?

A buzz alerted Abby that Rebecca Wilson had entered the room, and as soon as the clanking of jewelry stopped, she was sure that Rebecca was now sitting opposite her.

"Abby," Rebecca spoke in her clear voice, acknowledging the blonde girl in front of her.

"Yes, Ms. Wilson?" Abby asked, her arms crossed.

"Call me Rebecca." She cut in.

"Rebecca." Abby corrected herself.

"Abby, your case is not looking good. Want to tell me what you know?" Rebecca asked.

Abby shrugged.

"Abby, I can't help you if you don't tell me your side of the story," Rebecca frowned.

"I didn't do it," Abby said clearly.

"What happened?" Rebecca asked sympathetically.

"My friends and I planned a prank for Olivia Johnson, which included a string trap and pouring a can of beans over Olivia's head. Except she swallowed a drug. I didn't put it there." Abby said.

"If you didn't put it there, then who did?" Rebecca inquired.

"I don't know! Jessica maybe. Janice. Flora. All I know is that it wasn't me." Abby replied, putting her head in her hands, and wincing when they hit hard metal instead.

"Abby, Olivia passed away a short while ago because she couldn't breathe. Now, the judges know it was meant to be a prank, but you could face three years." Rebecca informed.

"Oh my God." Abby gasped. Three years for something she didn't even do?

"Abby, that's why we need you to cooperate. We will refine your story into a most believable one." Rebecca suggested.

"I'm innocent and if no one believes me, let that be. I don't want to take the bait for someone else without making myself heard first. Even if I do end up with a three-year sentence, at least I know I tried my best." Abby declared.

"Abby, if you cooperate with me, you could have a chance to get one year, or even six months. At the most, it would be two years. But if you decide to be completely honest, there is going to be a big chance of a three-year sentence for you." Rebecca said seriously.

"I'm standing by the truth," Abby demanded, thumping both fists on the table. It made a loud clank sound, causing Rebecca to wince. You'd have thought she'd be used to this, with a job like hers.

"Then we'll have to take this to trial," Rebecca said gravely.

——

Two months later, Abby walked into Silent Heights Prison, handcuffs around her already bruised wrists. She was sentenced to three years for the manslaughter of Olivia Johnson.

A single tear leaked from her swollen eyes. She wiped it away as hastily as the handcuffs would allow her. Her eyes, already red and bloodshot, even found blinking hard. She hadn't slept for days. Every time her eyes closed, an image of Olivia stabbing her in the chest and dragging her to death displayed.

The gate buzzed as the burly guard shoved her into her tiny, smelly cell. Abby's nose took in a whiff of the foul air and almost vomited in disgust.

"You'll get used to it." The guard said gruffly. He shut the door with a buzz that was already getting on Abby's nerves. Three years was a long time, and she wasn't sure she could remain here for that long.

Abby sat down on the cold, hard bed. It was nothing compared to her warm silk bed back at home. The floor was caked with bacteria and whatever infection the previous inmate had left behind. The slippers Abby received weren't much better. She wanted her rose petal flip flops. Still, they were better than nothing, she thought, as she slipped them on.

A foul stench of urine hit Abby's nose. She'd been the unlucky one. Her cell was adjacent to the toilet, and whatever Abby could smell from her cell already told her to minimize her trips to the toilet. Disgusting. How did criminals live a life sentence in this hellhole?

And the worst thing was that the prison didn't allow makeup. How could she get through three years without spraying her perfume on every few hours, or fluffing her hair in the mirror every break? And her clothes! She couldn't bear to see herself in orange. Absolutely hideous. She always preferred white or baby pink.

In the end, she decided to stay on the bed, which seemed the cleanest to her until she absolutely needed to leave her cell or get on her feet.