A Day at White Hollow (Part 2)

Valeria Santos adjusted her belt as she entered the communal guard room. The tension in the air was almost tangible, an undercurrent of unspoken shifts in authority that Valeria couldn’t ignore. Heather Lawson leaned casually against the table, her eyes gleaming with something almost predatory. Javier Morales stood nearby but excused himself quickly, sensing the mood shift.

Heather smirked as Valeria entered, her voice cutting through the room. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite underachiever. Tell me, Valeria, still struggling to keep up?”

Valeria’s jaw tightened. “What’s your problem, Heather? Do you get off on acting like you’re in charge?”

Heather’s smirk widened as she stepped closer. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of watching you flounder.”

The other guards—Sofia Delgado and Marisol Vargas—watched in stunned silence. Valeria’s fists clenched, and the room grew still. Then, without warning, Heather moved. In a blur, she swept Valeria’s legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground.

Before Valeria could recover, Heather planted her boot firmly on Valeria’s neck, pressing just enough to make her gasp. “Let me make something very clear,” Heather hissed. “You report to me now. Moana and Latoya? they are your bosses on Paper but i´m now in charge of you bitches here. And if you even think about stepping out of line, I will make sure you regret it.”

Valeria struggled, her face red with humiliation, but Heather didn’t move. The room was silent except for the sharp sound of Heather’s breathing. Then, Heather’s voice dropped to a deadly calm. “From now on, you ask for my permission before you do anything. Got it?”

Valeria nodded weakly, her voice trembling. “Y-yes.”

Heather’s gaze flicked to Marisol and Sofia. “That goes for all of you. I don’t care what you’ve done before. Things are different now. You don’t make a move without clearing it with me.”

Marisol was the first to respond, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ma’am.”

Heather finally lifted her boot, letting Valeria scramble to her feet. “Good. Now get out of my sight,” she said coldly.

Valeria stumbled out of the room, her humiliation burning in her chest. As she left, Anjali Iyer watched the entire scene unfold on the surveillance feed. Her hand hovered over the record button, but before she could act, Heather’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Anjali, delete that footage.”

“Yes, Hea... I mean, yes, Boss.” came trew heathers radio.

Heather chuckled, turning back to Marisol and Sofia. “See? That’s how it’s done.” She leaned closer to Marisol, her tone softening. “You’ve been good. Come here.”

Marisol hesitated, then stepped forward. Heather placed a hand under her chin, pulling her in for a kiss. When it was over, Heather smirked. “Now, why don’t you stay behind for a little reward?”

Lisa Nguyen sat at her desk, her fingers trembling as she typed out yet another revision of a report. Rachel had made it clear earlier that morning that Lisa’s efforts were “disappointing.” Her chest tightened as she thought back to Rachel’s smirk, the way her hand had lingered too long on her shoulder before giving her a sharp slap on the back.

Lisa’s cheeks burned at the memory. Rachel’s comments about her appearance—how she should wear something tighter, how she should make herself “worth watching”—played on repeat in her mind. Lisa hated the shame that twisted inside her, but she hated even more the tiny spark of satisfaction she felt when Rachel’s gaze lingered. What’s wrong with me? she thought.

Her devotion to Rachel had grown to an unsettling level. She caught herself anticipating Rachel’s every demand, striving to perfect every detail before Rachel even asked. The shift had been slow, but Lisa could feel it now—how much she craved Rachel’s approval, how much she wanted to stay in her good graces.

She remembered last week, when Rachel had handed her a stack of paperwork to finish by the end of the day. Lisa had stayed late, her hands aching from typing, her eyes burning from the strain. When she’d delivered the finished work to Rachel’s office, Rachel had smiled—a rare, genuine smile that had sent a thrill through Lisa.

“Good girl,” Rachel had said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. Then she had closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve earned a reward.”

Lisa’s breath hitched at the memory of what happened next. Rachel had led her to the supply closet, her hands roaming over Lisa’s body with a possessive intensity. Lisa had been too stunned to resist, her shame melting into a strange, **** need to please. When it was over, Rachel had adjusted her blouse and smirked. “Maybe next time, you’ll earn even more.”

Lisa shook herself back to the present, her cheeks flushing as she glanced around the office. She hated what she had become, but the thought of Rachel’s approval—of her touch—kept her tethered to this twisted dynamic. She adjusted her posture, ensuring her blouse looked just right, and returned to her work, silently vowing to do better for Rachel.

Anita sat at her desk, her fingers drumming lightly on the polished wood as she tried to focus on the pile of reports in front of her. She couldn’t shake the growing sense that something was slipping out of her control. The shifts in behavior among the staff, the subtle changes in how the guards handled the inmates—it was all too familiar.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Before she could answer, Rachel stepped inside, holding a folder. Anita’s brow furrowed. “Rachel, what is it?”

Rachel, her assistant, moved with practiced grace, placing the folder on Anita’s desk. “It’s my application,” she said, her voice steady but with a hint of defiance.

Anita blinked, taken aback. “Your application? For what?”

Rachel straightened her posture. “Deputy Director. You’ve been looking for someone, haven’t you?”

For a moment, Anita stared at her, then laughed, a sharp sound that made Rachel’s expression harden. “Rachel, please. You’re good at what you do, but this?” She gestured to the folder dismissively. “You’re not ready for that kind of responsibility.”

Rachel’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Instead, she inclined her head slightly and turned on her heel, leaving the room without another word. Anita’s laughter faded as the door clicked shut. She leaned back in her chair, her thoughts swirling.

Rachel? Deputy Director? Ridiculous.

Her initial amusement began to waver as she considered her options. She’d been preparing Latoya for the role, but the reports from Miranda painted a troubling picture. Latoya’s behavior had become erratic—too eager for attention, especially from certain white inmates. Anita frowned. Maybe that’s why she’s been so lenient with them lately. Is she trying to curry favor?

Her gaze drifted to the folder Rachel had left behind. She had no intention of considering Rachel seriously, but the encounter left her unsettled. Another name came to mind—Nia Bennett, the new intern. Nia had applied specifically for a position at White Hollow, citing her academic background and ideological alignment. Allegedly, she’d even been involved in a Black Supremacy movement during her first semesters. Anita tapped her pen against the desk. If that’s true, it’s a point in her favor. Maybe she’s worth grooming.

Anita exhaled sharply, leaning back in her chair. Her memories drifted unbidden to her past—to the stories her grandmother told of how Black women were treated, how they were viewed as nothing more than objects. Anita had vowed never to let that happen to her or her daughter. If men like Garrett, or like Kathrin’s ex-husband, had to suffer for that future, then so be it. White Hollow was supposed to be a sanctuary, she thought. A place where power was in the right hands.

Her resolve hardened as she stared at the reports. The future of White Hollow demanded vigilance, and Anita would not let anyone—least of all a man like Garrett—undermine what she had built.

Cody Miller leaned back against the wall of the yard, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He hadn’t been here long, but even he could tell that things in White Hollow were different now. Different in a way that worked in his favor.

He watched as Javier Morales, one of the Latino guards, walked past a group of white inmates, nodding at them casually. The same guard had barked at a group of black inmates not five minutes earlier, his tone sharp and unforgiving. Cody took a drag, a smirk creeping across his face. This is how it should’ve been from the start, he thought.

Javier’s expression seemed distant, almost conflicted, as he moved through the yard. Cody caught the guard throwing a glance toward Sofia Delgado, another Latina guard, who was standing near Luke, one of the white inmates. Cody didn’t miss the way Sofia laughed at something Luke said, her hand briefly touching his arm.

Cody’s smirk widened. Sofia’s flirtation wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t lost on anyone. As she passed near him, Cody leaned against the fence and called out, “Looking good today, Sofia.” His voice carried just enough weight to make her stop in her tracks. She turned to him, her cheeks flushing deeply.

“Thanks, Cody,” she said, almost shyly, her voice soft. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave him a brief, awkward smile before walking away quickly.

Cody chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. Didn’t expect that, he thought, watching her retreating form. It felt good to have a little power, even over someone like Sofia. The way she had blushed and stammered—it was like the balance of power had finally shifted in his favor. But what made it sweeter was seeing Santiago, one of the Latino inmates, sitting in his cell, his face twisted in frustration. Cody had overheard Santiago earlier, catcalling Sofia with a loud “Ey Mami!” only to have her ignore him completely. Moments later, he’d been marched to his cell by none other than Javier.

That’s what happens when you don’t know your place, Cody thought, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He didn’t know what Garrett was doing, but whatever it was, it had tipped the balance. The guards were **** to the white inmates, almost deferential. It felt like the entire system was bending to favor them.

He didn’t know Garrett well, but he knew enough to be grateful. Cody flicked the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with his heel. Whatever you’re doing, man, keep it up.

Javier lingered at the edge of the yard, his eyes still on Sofia. Cody caught the flicker of frustration in the guard’s face and felt a pang of satisfaction. Even the guards weren’t immune to the shifts happening in White Hollow, and Cody couldn’t help but enjoy watching it all unfold.*