“Orange is the New Black” did not prepare me for this.

Ara kept her eyes low to the ground, terrified that she would catch the attention of any given inmate at precisely the wrong time. Netflix may not have taught her about the realities of prison, but common sense dictated that she shut up and not make any trouble.

No matter what, Ara reasoned, I’m sure it will find its way to me one way or another.

Upon being taken back into custody, she had not been brought back to the jail at the precinct. Instead, she had been brought directly to St. Albans in Port Elizabeth.

She was sure that Titus had followed them all the way back, but Ara knew that even with his standing and good name, he was not above the law. Especially not when Captain Jansen was so determined to keep her locked up.

The pinched face cop was the first familiar face Ara saw when she had been processed in the prison.

“Did you enjoy your little taste of freedom?” Camille Jansen asked, a slightly mocking expression on her lips. “Too bad your rich boyfriend can’t buy you out of this little pickle you’re in after all, huh?”

Ara wasn’t sure which was more offensive to her: the fact that Jansen believed she was trying to buy her freedom, or that she had referred to Titus as her boyfriend.

He’s so much more than that, Ara thought defensively, but she said nothing, staring at a scratch on the metal table before her.

“Don’t say a word!” Titus told her as she was led away in handcuffs. “Anders will be here to sort this all out. You’ll be back here in no time. Just stay strong.”

Ara was not so sure. She found it hard to believe that they would have taken her in without just cause, knowing how important Titus was. They wouldn’t risk angering him by being impulsive.

If they didn’t have anything solid, she thought, they would not have let me remain free for a week. At the same time, she wondered why the captain hadn’t hauled her back in after her unauthorized trip to the Williams Tech headquarters. Why would she bide her time when she obviously wanted me under lock and key?

Another terrifying thought occurred to Ara: what if they were monitoring her internet activity and saw she was talking to Jasper? Had she inadvertently lead them to him?

She wondered if that would be such a bad thing. After all, Skylar might be with him, and they could both be conspiring to take down Titus’ company in some way.

All this uncertainty was overwhelming.

Skylar planned it this way, Ara thought bitterly. He wanted us all to turn against one another by keeping us in the dark. The left hand had no idea what the right hand was doing. How can I know that Jasper or the others didn’t know what Skylar had planned all along? Maybe you were just meant to be the scapegoat all along while they are off planning another heist somewhere.

It was a sickening thought, and Ara didn’t want to believe such a thing could be possible, but she no longer knew what to think. All she knew for sure was that she knew nothing.

Except that she trusted Titus. Somehow, she knew that.

“Move it along, fresh meat,” someone hissed in her ear, and Ara turned, forgetting her “no eye contact” rule. A huge dark-haired woman leered at her, a mouthful of gold teeth enhancing an already sinister smile. Quickly, Ara darted her eyes back and shuffled through the cafeteria line, allowing for the workers to slap inedible slop onto the pea green plastic tray in her hands. “Fresh meat, fresh meat,” the woman taunted her in a low voice. “I hear you got yourself a rich dick to sit on.”

Ara whirled, shocked at the crude statement.

Keep moving! a voice in her head yelled. Don’t engage!

She turned back and shuffled away, hoping to leave the huge woman in her wake, but her nervousness must have been palpable. As she made her way to an unoccupied table near one of the guards, the inmate followed her, grinning obscenely.

“You a prude? Can’t talk about it?” she chortled, flopping unceremoniously onto the bench across from Ara. “You a virgin? I can help you with that.”

Ara glanced at the corrections officer for help, but the guard turned away deliberately, leaving the women alone.

Every woman for herself in here, I guess, Ara thought with some bitterness. What else is new?

“You mute?” Ara refused to raise her eyes, silently hoping the obnoxious woman would disappear, even though she knew that her prayers would not be answered. “I’m talking to you!”

The obese woman slammed her fists onto the bolted down table, but the impact still managed to shake the trays.

“You’re stuck up, huh? I can loosen that cork out of your ass,” she spat, rising abruptly. Before she could move, another voice joined the conversation.

“Inga, you’re wanted in the laundry.”

Ara did not want to raise her eyes, lest she catch the irate prisoner’s attention… but that voice… it was so familiar…

No, she thought, biting on her lower lip. It can’t be. If she had been caught, too, I would’ve heard about it!

“I’m eating,” Inga said. The tray flew across the table, and Ara gasped, her eyes darting upward as she gaped at the skinny brunette towering over her tormentor.

“Not anymore, you’re not,” she jeered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Any other concerns?”

Inga scowled menacingly. “I’m busy!” she snapped.

“You must also be deaf,” the newcomer snarled. “I said you’re needed in the laundry!”

Inga ambled to her feet and glared at them both.

“This isn’t over, nunu,” Inga promised, sucking air in between her teeth. “You and I are gonna help each other out. You’ll see.”

“Inga, you need to leave—now!”

The overweight woman rose, still staring at Ara, but the strawberry blonde was too busy gaping at her savior and barely noticed as Inga shuffled off, muttering obscenities under her breath.

The slender brunette watched to ensure that the other woman disappeared before turning her attention to Ara. “Ara,” she sighed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Emma!” Ara choked, wanting to throw her arms around the girl, but nothing about Emma’s posture seemed to encourage the action.

“I heard you cut a deal with the prosecutor and got sent home,” the dark-haired woman whispered, slipping onto the seat Inga had just claimed. “I didn’t expect to see you until trial.”

“What?” Ara gasped. “I never cut a deal!”

Emma studied her face closely. “I guess not, or you wouldn’t be in here, but I saw you leaving the courthouse with Titus Williams on the news.”

“He posted my bail for me, yes,” Ara said, nodding her head. “It’s a long story. But you? I didn’t know you’d been caught! What happened?”

“Hey! The mess is for eating, not gossiping!” The guard who had left her to be accosted by Inga suddenly returned, slapping her baton against the table as she eyed the pair suspiciously. “What happened to your tray, Krueger?”

Emma shrugged nonchalantly. “I dropped it,” she replied pleasantly. “I’m sharing with the new girl.”

The officer scowled. “No. No food for you. Get back to your work detail.”

Ara looked at Emma desperately, but the older woman was already on her feet.

“See you later, Pinot,” Emma called, turning away, and Ara was left with a sense of loss as she watched her friend walk away.

If Emma was arrested and I didn’t know about it, she thought, who else has been caught? Is that why I’m here again? Because someone ratted on all of us?

Ara wished that she could speak to Emma more, but her former associate had already left the cafeteria. Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she timidly looked around the half-filled hall, wondering how she would ever get used to living a life behind bars—a life away from Titus when she had just found him.

You should be grateful for the time you were able to spend with him, she reminded herself, slowly turning her eyes back to the slop on her tray. Aside from a piece of bread, nothing else was identifiable, and it had nothing to do with the cultural difference; the food was inedible.

“You better eat,” the guard offered.

Ara hadn’t even realized she was still standing nearby.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied quietly.

The woman snickered. “No one gives a shit. If you get sick in here, you’re as good as dead. You’ve already got a target on your back, honey. If you don’t keep your strength up, you may as well just kill yourself right now. It will be less painful for you that way.”

A shiver of apprehension slithered through Ara as she recognized the sincerity in the officer’s words. She’s serious. She’s not trying to scare me, she’s trying to warn me.

Slowly, Ara picked up the plastic fork and began to swirl the greyish-white mess around on her dish, closing her eyes before she put a mouthful between her lips. It tasted as bad as it looked, and Ara found herself longing for Marta’s home cooking with a craving so strong, it knocked the wind from her lungs.

You better get used to this, she told herself, dredging up memories of her childhood on purpose for once. She thought of the cold pork and beans, their metallic taste on her tongue as her father stood over her, screaming that there was no money to waste on food. She saw his bleary irises and smelled the booze oozing from his pores.

You’ve endured worse than this, Ara recalled firmly, shoveling another forkful of mush into her gullet. You’re a grown woman. You can deal with this. After all, you helped with the theft, whether or not you knew about it. You need to accept your fate and do your time if that’s what is decided. She chewed the rubbery mess in her mouth, reluctant to swallow as a rush of bile flooded upward through her esophagus.

It was true; she had been through much worse times when she had been much more vulnerable. At least at St. Albans, there was heat in the winters, a bed, and something to put in her belly, guaranteed.

In her childhood, if she had known such a place existed, she would have gotten herself arrested just for those qualities alone.

But she was not little Arabella anymore. She was not a neglected child with a dirty face and ripped clothes.

What about me has changed so much? she asked herself contemptuously. You haven’t gotten very far with your life since then.

Yet as she pushed the half-finished meal aside and lifted her head slowly, Ara knew what had changed.

The desire to fight for herself.

She had tasted what life could be like for her.

I don’t have to run scared or live in boxes. I don’t have to keep my eyes down and worry about stepping on other people’s toes.

An uncharacteristic flood of courage surged through Ara’s body as she thought of all that was waiting for her on the other side of the prison walls.

I will fight, she told herself with determination. And I will find my way back to Titus.