The women's wing of the high-security prison felt like stepping into a deeper, colder circle of hell—one stripped not only of freedom, but of warmth itself. The air carried a sterile chill that clung to the skin, and every sound—every distant clang of metal doors, every echoing footstep—seemed sharper, more final. It was quieter here than the men's section, but not in a peaceful way. It was the quiet of resignation.
