Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

(Bright's POV) Every step I take comes with more than one inmate watching me. Well, who wouldn't? I look different from the rest of them. They look like thugs waiting for a perfect time to start chaos and I look like a weakling who can't defend himself from a mosquito. The fact that I'm so much smaller than they are makes me a very easy target for them to fuck around. But I can't also ignore the obvious fact that they're not only staring at me. They're also staring at the guy walking beside me. Cole He's just there matching my pace despite being gifted of ridiculously long legs that could finish a 3K marathon in under a minute. This A-hole has never left my side since that agreement that we had. He took it to seriously. I feel like a celebrity, while he's my personal bodyguard. I just hate the fact that this is happening now that I'm inside a maximum security prison. "Looks like I found someone to kill for me..." I mumbled sarcastically and looked at him. He sneered. Sergeant

(Bright’s POV) Cole is standing there, his forehead resting against the wall. Blood streaks down the concrete in dark smears, and his shoulders are trembling. “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed. He doesn’t respond. I glance over my shoulder, checking the corridor for guards. No one’s here. Not yet. The guards in this wing are lazy, more concerned with their poker games than actual patrols. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open. The locks on some of these cells are jokes if you know how to handle them, and I’ve had a lot of time to learn. But his door is surprisingly open all the freaking time like it was meant to be like that. I step inside and grab his arm. His skin is cold, clammy. “Cole,” I say, softer this time. He turns his head toward me, and for a moment, I see something in his eyes that makes my stomach twist. It’s not fear or pain—it’s... emptiness. Like the guy I’ve seen smirking and making snide comments all these weeks isn’t there anymore. “Come on,” I sa

(Bright’s POV) I’m currently at the yard doing labor work together with the other inmates, and the sun is doing a really great job at tiring me out. I have been digging soil for three hours straight already, and I don’t even fucking know what they’re trying to do. It’s like they just got bored, and decided to put us all to work. It would have been better if everyone was working their ass, but those rich bastards are just chilling on the benches with their orange juice with umbrella straws in it. Where’s mine, by the way? I dropped the shovel down, approaching one of the jail guards who is serving orange juice. “Could I have a glass, please?” I asked, my throat feeling parched from the physical work. Having a petite body doesn’t really help me in this place. They really expect that a tiny twig like me could dig a hole in the ground? What are they even trying to find? Treasure? I smiled in relief when the jail guard started to fill me a cup of orange juice when Detective Garcia sud

(Bright's POV) Today is probably one of my most awaited time of the week. I hate the fact that we can only do this twelve times in a month. Do prisons don't know about personal hygiene? Why would make us suffer in our own filth? But then I guess that's why it's called a prison. You're supposed to suffer. Not to feel like you're staying in a five-star hotel. Despite of this being my most awaited time of the week, I can't help but get nervous still. I haven't forgotten about what happened. I just can't. I stand at the edge of the communal showers with a churning stomach. The air smells of soap and damp concrete. There's a line of inmates stand under the spray, laughing and shouting over the sound of rushing water. It's like it's their first time touching water in a thousand years. I hate this part of the day. Every single time. I’d rather bathe alone, but I can’t risk it. Not after last time. The bruises took days to fade, and the trauma will probably last forever. So here I am

(Bright’s POV)Cole—the guy I hated most after my uncle and Detective Garcia—is kissing me. I blinked, wondering if I finally lost it. This couldn't be real. Could it? He’s actually kissing me?No way. Just... no.When he finally pulls back, I stumble a step away from him, my face burning. “What was that?!” I practically shout.He doesn’t look flustered at all. He just stares at me with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting to see how I’ll react, while I run out of breath, thinking about what the hell just happened.I touch my lips, still too shocked to form a coherent thought. “You… you can’t just… What the fuck, Cole?!”“Relax,” he says, but his voice is quieter now, almost… soft.“Relax?” I echo, my voice high-pitched. “You just— You kissed me!”“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.I open my mouth to yell at him again, but nothing comes out. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I hate how warm my face fe