Marshall’s POV

The fight in the yard happened fast.

Two inmates started it, but somehow Francesco got pulled in when one of them pushed me. I saw the flash of fists, guards shouting, batons hitting the ground. Then everything went black.

When I came to, we were back in our cell. Lockdown. Blood on my lip. A bruise on his cheek.

Francesco sat on the floor, breathing hard, staring at nothing. His knuckles were raw. For a long time, neither of us spoke. The silence felt thick, pressing against my chest.

Then he whispered, “I can’t keep doing this.”

His voice cracked. “Every day feels like punishment. I close my...