carolinedaisypamela
The walls here are gray, but they've never felt unfamiliar.
In Cell 17, everything is stripped down to the truth-no one pretending to care, no one asking you to smile just to make them feel better. There's just silence, steel, and the sound of your own memories clawing their way back.
Imani has had time to think.
Time to sit with the ghosts of her childhood.
Time to ask herself: How did I end up here?
But the truth is, she didn't break overnight.
The breaking started years ago, in a house where the lights stayed on but the love never showed up. A house where her father's voice could freeze a room. Where her mother's arms were never for her. Where being "the smart one" was the only way to be seen-until even that wasn't enough.
She wasn't born for prison.
But she was raised inside one long before the bars were made of iron.
This is her story.
The one no one asked for.
The one no one believed she'd survive long enough to tell.
From the outside, it just looks like Cell 17.
But from in here, it's the only place she's ever been able to speak freely.
And for once...
She's going to tell it all.