Marshall’s POV

It had been six months since Francesco left.

Six months of quiet mornings, silent meals, and nights that dragged on like years. The cell felt bigger now, but not in a good way. Empty space had its own kind of weight. His bunk stayed untouched, and I never asked for another cellmate. Maybe the guards understood. Maybe they just forgot.

I tried not to count the days, but I did. Each one felt the same dull, slow, cold. I kept busy with cleaning shifts and reading anything I could find in the library. The other inmates stopped asking about “the model guy.” Most of them didn’t care. But...