Sweet Prison (Perfectly Imperfect #10)

Almost a year later

(Zahara, age 18; Massimo, age 35)

The dark-blue cube van backs up to the open loading bay door. Every Sunday morning, it arrives to collect bins of dirty laundry and takes everything to another nearby correctional center to be dealt with. Keeping my eyes on the vehicle through the wisps of my frosty breath, I lean my shoulder on the cold wall of the docking area and wait for the truck to come to a stop. The driver-side window slides down, and instantly, a barely audible whistle sounds from inside the cab.

I grab one of the bins overflowing with mesh bags stuffed full of filthy shit and carry it to the back of the vehicle while the stink attacks my nostrils. Stacking the bin in the cargo hold of the cube van, I throw a look at the correctional officer supervising the work. He glances at the other two inmates handling the bins, then gives me a slight chin lift.