Hating can make you Sick.
The lunch hall was a storm of clattering trays, yelling, and the stench of overcooked beans.
Emma sat alone at the end of a long metal table, eating in her usual silence — small, controlled bites.
Then came the sound of boots slamming against the floor.
Valeria dropped her tray next to Emma's with a bang, meat spilling on the table.
She immediately started eating like a wolf tearing into prey, chunks of bread and meat vanishing in seconds. Grease smeared on her fingers, her jaw working like she hadn't eaten in weeks.
Between gulps, she slapped Emma's back hard enough to make her tray jump.
Valeria (grinning wide):
"You're sooo my bestie now, Whether you Like it or not!"
She barked out a laugh that shook the whole table. Some prisoners looked away nervously; others whispered, trying to figure out if Valeria was mocking Emma or dead serious.
Emma sat stiff, spoon still in hand. Her expression was unreadable — her face almost blank, except for the tiniest twitch in her brow.
Emma (flatly, without looking at her):
"…Don't call me that."
Valeria just laughed harder, slinging an arm over Emma's shoulders like they'd been childhood friends.
Valeria:
"C'mon, besties for life! You and me against the world. Look at you, all gloomy. Gotta loosen up, Emma."
Emma's eyes lowered to her tray.
She didn't push Valeria away — but she didn't acknowledge her either.
To Emma, silence was resistance enough.
Still, everyone watching could see it:
The prison's deadliest woman had chosen her "bestie," whether Emma liked it or not.
The guards' whistles blew, signaling the end of lunch. Prisoners began filing out, clattering trays, yelling, cursing.
Valeria stretched, wiped her greasy hands on her pants, and muttered:
Valeria: "Bathroom. Don't eat my bread."
She swaggered off, leaving Emma sitting alone at the end of the bench.
For the first time in days, the hall felt quieter around her. Too quiet.
That's when four women stepped out of the line, circling her. their eyes sharp with jealousy.
Prisoner 1 (sneering): "So… Emma, huh? Think you're untouchable now that Valeria called you her pet?"
Prisoner 2 (mocking bow): "Ooo, bestie of the queen. Must feel special."
The group snickered, their shadows falling over Emma's tray.
Emma's gaze lifted, cold and steady.
Her lips parted just enough to form one word, flat as stone:
Emma: "…Fight."
The women stiffened at the tone — she wasn't bluffing. She was daring them.
One of them leaned closer, about to spit an insult—
Then the air shifted.
Valeria's voice cut through the hall before she even stepped back in:
Valeria (snapping): "…What's this?"
She strode forward, eyes sharp, posture heavy like a predator stalking prey.
The mocking prisoners froze mid-breath.
Valeria didn't say another word.
She didn't have to.
Her eyes locked on them in a single, burning glance.
That one look carried promise — violence, destruction, humiliation.
The women immediately backed off, muttering excuses, their bravado evaporating into thin air.
Valeria dropped back onto the bench beside Emma, picking up her bread like nothing happened.
She smirked as she chewed.
Valeria (casually, with her mouth full): "Told you, bestie. Stick with me, no rats will bite."
Emma's face didn't move.
But inside, she realized something.
She didn't need to fight them.
Valeria's shadow was already enough.
She. Smiles. Remembering her childhood bestfriend.
Emma (whispering): "diana, Is this you in another soul.?"
It was late. The prison buzz had gone quiet, most of the women asleep or pretending to be.
Only the hum of the fluorescent light and the occasional echo of a guard's boots filled the air.
Emma sat on her bunk, legs crossed, back against the wall.
Valeria was sprawled on the lower bunk like she owned it, hands behind her head, chewing a piece of gum she probably got from trading favors.
For a long time, Valeria stared at the ceiling before turning her head slightly.
Valeria: "yoo, Phantom."
Emma: "Why are you calling me Phantom?"
Valeria: "Because you move like one."
Valeria smirked.
Emma rolled her eyes...
Valeria: "Hey, Phantom. Why you in here?"
Her tone wasn't mocking this time. It was… curious.
Emma didn't look at her. Her eyes traced the cracks in the wall, her voice low, even:
Emma: "…A gangster. He broke into a house. Raped the mother. Shot the father. And made the kids watch."
The words hung heavy in the stale air. Valeria stopped chewing.
Emma's eyes darkened, though her expression stayed neutral.
Emma: "I killed him. Not because it was my job. Not for money. Just… because I had to."
The silence afterward was sharp.
Valeria sat up slowly, elbows resting on her knees, studying Emma.
There was no grin, no laugh. Only respect in her voice.
Valeria: "…That ain't murder. That's justice."
Emma didn't reply. She just leaned back, staring up at the flickering light, her face unreadable as ever.
Valeria stayed quiet after calling Emma's act justice.
The silence stretched, heavy, almost uncomfortable.
Emma finally shifted, sitting forward, her hands loosely clasped.
Her voice was steady, but it carried a weight that filled the cell.
Emma:
"You want to know why I hate gangsters?"
Her eyes fixed on the floor, but her words cut like glass.
Emma:
"They act like they own life and death. Like families, children, mothers, fathers—are just pieces in their game. They steal futures. They poison streets. And when they destroy someone's world, they laugh about it like it's entertainment."
Her tone dipped lower, colder.
Emma:
"I've seen kids grow up with nothing but trauma in their eyes. I've seen mothers beg to die because the monsters who touched them left them hollow. And I've seen men—strong men—turn into shells after one night of violence."
Emma's eyes lifted, and for the first time, there was fire behind her calm face.
Emma:
"So I decided. Every time I look into the eyes of a gangster… I'll remind them. They aren't gods. They bleed like everyone else. And if it's me who makes them bleed—good."
The cell was dead quiet.
Valeria leaned back slowly, chewing her gum again just to break the tension.
But her eyes… they weren't mocking.
They were filled with something rare for Valeria Kross.
Respect.
Valeria (low, almost admiring):
"You really are the Phantom."
Emma didn't answer.
Her face went blank again, but deep inside, that fire still smoldered.
The gum snapped between Valeria's teeth, but her smirk was gone. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor like it carried memories she didn't want to see.
Valeria:
"You hate gangsters, huh? Funny. I used to be one."
Emma didn't flinch, didn't look away. She just waited.
Valeria rubbed her jaw, exhaling hard.
Valeria:
"I wasn't born tough. I was born hungry. Grew up in a house where fists talked louder than words. If you wanted to eat, you stole. If you wanted to survive, you fought. By the time I was twelve, I was running with a crew. By sixteen, I was running them."
Her voice hardened, but there was no pride in it.
Valeria:
"I broke skulls, I broke lives, I did whatever I had to. And I told myself it was power. But… the truth?"
She finally looked up, eyes sharp but tired.
Valeria:
"It was just fear. Fear of being the victim. Fear of being weak. I thought if I was the monster, no monster could touch me."
The silence lingered.
Emma's eyes stayed calm, unreadable, but she studied Valeria carefully.
Valeria gave a dry laugh, shaking her head.
Valeria:
"Got sloppy one night. Rival gang caught me, cops came in the middle. Next thing I know? Half their crew's dead, I'm covered in blood, and the law don't care about the why. Just the bodies."
She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms, smirk returning but not reaching her eyes.
Valeria:
"So here I am. Queen of a cage. It's been 12 years, Funny, ain't it? You kill for justice. I killed for fear. And yet we both wear the same chains."
Emma tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as ever.
But in her silence, there was no judgment. Only recognition.
Chapter end.