The harsh fluorescent lights of the death row cell cast long, unforgiving shadows, emphasizing the cold, concrete reality of Noelle's situation. Every clang of metal, every distant shout, served as a chilling reminder of her impending fate, of the ugly situation she faced. She sat on the edge of her cot, the thin mattress offering very little comfort, her gaze fixed on the rough concrete wall. Days blurred into nights, each one a torturous countdown to her execution.
The monotony was broken by the sudden appearance of the warden, his face neutral as usual. "You have a visitor, Noelle," he announced, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Noelle's head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. A visitor? He must have the wrong person. No one had come to see her ever since she had been incarcerated. She had no family to speak of, all her friends and admirers had disappeared in their haste to not have her notoriety rubbed off on them.
