She looked around the small prison cell that had become her home. Below her, the cement floors were beginning to reveal small cracks in their foundation. On the walls of the small space that had been assigned to her, she had decided to take a cue from Anne Frank, during her days in captivity, and as decor, she hung posters of her favorite actresses on the wall.

As she sat on her bed, looking at the posters on the otherwise bare, white walls, she felt immensely disheartened. All throughout her life, she had been surrounded by so many women that she had the opportunity to learn from. She had been exposed, through literature, film, and media outlets, to women that encouraged young people to prioritize themselves and their educations. And yet, there she was, laying on a twin size bed, with only a thin white comforter covering her legs, looking longingly at the actresses that stared back at her.

She had researched them, of course. She had utilized her time in the prison library to develop a greater understanding of how they had not fallen prey to some of the situations that she had. Now, of course, that was all behind her. Now, of course, she was living with the consequences of her actions, while the actresses that adorned the otherwise boring walls, were living their lives to the fullest, excelling for not making the same decisions she had.

She thought back to the life she had lived prior to her confinement to a prison cell, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Gone was the chaos that had once overstimulated her mind, preventing her from thinking for herself. Gone was the madness that had once enveloped her life. Gone. It was all gone.

She crossed her legs and assumed a comfortable position on her bed, before opening her book to read. Of course, she had not made peace with her decisions. Instead, she found peace and tranquility away from turmoil.