CHAPTER TWELVE:FORGED IN DARKNESS

Days turned into weeks. The torture never stopped. Every moment in prison was a battle for survival.

But then, I met her.

Her name was Jade.

She was tall, with sharp, calculating eyes that had seen too much of the world. Her body was covered in scars—proof of battles she had fought and won.

Jade watched me for days before she finally spoke. "You're different," she said one night as we sat in the corner of the yard, away from the other prisoners. "You don't belong here."

I scoffed, my voice hoarse from weeks of silence. "Tell that to the judge who sentenced me."

Jade smirked. "I don't care what they said. I see it in your eyes—you're not broken yet. You're just waiting."

I turned to her, meeting her gaze. "Waiting for what?"

She leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper. "A way out. A way to make them pay."

My heart pounded. No one had spoken to me like this since I got here. No one had looked at me and seen me.

She knows.

"Why do you care?" I asked cautiously.

Jade chuckled darkly. "Because I've been where you are. Beaten, betrayed, left for dead. But I learned something."

"And what's that?"

Her smirk faded, replaced by something deadly. "Revenge isn't just about anger. It's about patience. It's about striking when they least expect it."

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling. Could I do it? Could I fight back?

Jade reached out and grabbed my wrist. "You have two choices," she said. "Stay weak and die in here, or let me teach you how to survive—and how to make them suffer."

I took a deep breath.

And then, for the first time since being locked away, I felt something other than fear.

Hope.

The torture escalated.

The police made sure I suffered. They dragged me from my cell in the middle of the night, beating me until my body was covered in bruises. They drowned me in ice-cold water, forcing me to gasp for air as they laughed.

But the worst was the hunger.

Five days. No food. No water.

I felt my body weakening, my mind slipping. My ribs pressed against my skin, my once-curvy figure wasting away. The guards enjoyed watching me struggle, taunting me with plates of food just out of reach.

"Maybe if you admit what you did, we'll feed you," one sneered, shoving my head against the cold prison floor.

I refused to answer.

I wouldn't break.

On the sixth day, I was barely conscious when they came for me again. This time, they didn't drag me back to my cell.

I was being transferred.

The new prison was worse.

The walls were darker, the air heavier with despair. The women here were more dangerous, their eyes hollow with the weight of survival.

I was thrown into a cell, my body too weak to fight back. My arms and legs trembled from exhaustion. I was nothing but skin and bones now.

Jade found me that night.

"You're still alive," she murmured, crouching beside me.

I forced a weak smile. "Barely."

She studied me for a moment before nodding. "Good. That means you're ready."

"For what?" I croaked.

Her eyes darkened. "To become something stronger than the girl they tried to break."

And so the training began.

Jade pushed me to my limits.

Every day, she forced me to move, even when my body screamed in protest. She made me do push-ups on the cold concrete floor until my arms gave out. She made me run laps in the tiny yard, dodging fights and angry prisoners.

"You need to be stronger," she said, shoving me against the wall. "Because when the time comes, no one is going to save you but yourself."

But it wasn't just my body she trained—it was my mind.

"They made you weak by controlling your emotions," she whispered one night. "That ends now."

She taught me to hide my fear, to silence my pain. She made me relive every betrayal, every moment of suffering—until it no longer hurt.

Until all that was left was the fire inside me.

The fire for revenge.

Jade watched me closely as I adjusted to my new strength.

"You've gotten tougher," she noted one evening, sitting beside me on the cold prison floor.

I nodded. "But strength alone won't get me out of here."

She smirked. "Exactly. That's why you need to start playing the game."

Manipulation.

That was my next weapon.

I observed everything—the way the guards interacted, the power dynamics among the prisoners. I took note of who feared who, who had influence, and who could be used.

I started small.

A kind word to a guard when he looked tired. A fake smile at the most dangerous prisoner, making her think I respected her. Whispers of fake secrets to build trust with those who could be useful.

"People want to feel important," Jade reminded me. "Give them that, and they'll do anything for you."

It didn't take long for my work to pay off.

One of the guards, Officer Reed, started lingering around my cell longer than necessary. His eyes softened when he looked at me.

"You don't belong here," he muttered one night.

I bit my lip, lowering my gaze. "Then help me," I whispered.

The seed was planted.

Now, I just had to wait.