Chapter 3 Eating and Sleeping Side by Side with High-Risk Inmates, 24/7

Clara clutched the bills in her palm, using every ounce of strength to refuse to let go.

Seeing her stubborn grip, Samuel lifted his foot and kicked her body again and again.

The metallic taste of blood in her mouth grew stronger. Clara curled up, arms protecting her head.

The pain in her abdomen kept intensifying, and a deep, throbbing ache spread through every bone and organ in her body.

Still, she held tight to the money. This was her future, her only hope of escaping this town. Even if she died here, she would never hand the money over to Samuel.

Samuel's patience wore thin from her stubborn attitude. He grabbed a nearby stool and hurled it viciously at Clara.

Clara's vision blurred. Her body had long since run out of strength—she had no way to dodge.

Instinctively, she reached out to grab the edge of the sofa. Her fingertips touched something hard and sharp. Acting on pure instinct, she grabbed it and swung it toward Samuel.

A furious curse rang out, and warm blood splattered across Clara's face.

She couldn't open her eyes. She raised her hand and roughly wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve, then pushed herself up from the floor.

Looking up, she saw Samuel clutching his arm tightly, bright red blood flowing steadily through his fingers.

Clara picked up the discarded stool from the floor and raised it high above her head, aiming at him. In that moment, she clearly saw genuine fear in Samuel's eyes.

So even someone this violent could feel afraid.

Just as Clara was about to bring the stool down, Katherine rushed forward and stopped her.

Katherine's eyes were red, her voice urgent and agitated. "Don't, Clara. I'm pregnant."

With a crash, the wooden chair slipped from Clara's hands and hit the floor hard.

Clara turned to look at Katherine, completely bewildered. "So you're going to let a man like this be your child's father?"

"Without him, my life will only be harder." Katherine shook her head gently.

Clara's fingers trembled slightly. This town was full of evil and abuse. A widow alone with a child could never live in peace. She fell silent and stopped trying to persuade her.

Katherine pushed her forcefully toward the door. "Go, Clara. You finally have a chance to leave. Never come back."

Clara was pushed out the door, and the heavy door slammed shut immediately. From inside came Samuel's angry curses, followed by the sharp sound of glass shattering.

Clara looked down at the blood-stained bills in her palm, her eyes stinging slightly.

Not far outside the door, Alice stood by the road, waving at her. Clara took a deep breath and walked over.

The two looked at each other, then opened their palms at the same time. Each had scraped together enough for the fare to the island.

Clara laughed softly, tears sliding down from the corners of her eyes. She couldn't tell what she was feeling—worry for Katherine, who was trapped, or relief that she could finally escape this swamp.

Alice noticed her low spirits and reached up to wipe away her tears. She gripped Clara's hand and asked softly, "Are we going, Clara?"

Clara wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and nodded firmly. "Yes!"

The journey to the island prison was especially grueling.

Their meager funds only covered passage in a dark, damp cargo hold. Before even stepping into the cabin, a heavy musty smell hit them in the face, making it hard to breathe.

The two hadn't eaten in days. The ship kept rocking and swaying, and the intense dizziness tormented them repeatedly.

At first they could still vomit up a little stomach acid, but eventually they were left with nothing but dry heaving, tears and snot flowing uncontrollably, their internal organs cramping and aching in waves.

To make matters worse, Alice's old wound became infected and her body began running a persistent fever.

"Clara, will I really make it there alive?" Alice's voice was full of despair.

Clara gripped her hand tightly and patiently comforted her over and over. "Hang in there a little longer, Alice. Once we get to the prison it'll be fine. They'll definitely help us treat our injuries and illnesses."

Alice's face was deathly pale, her lips bloodless, her eyes vacant and lifeless.

Clara didn't dare let her fall asleep. She kept talking to her the whole time, imagining their future, until her own mouth was dry, her lips cracked and peeling.

This long voyage nearly exhausted all their strength. Fortunately, they finally arrived safely at the island.

Just as Clara had expected, the prison staff were reasonably humane and immediately arranged for someone to treat Alice's wound. A guard gestured to Clara, signaling her to follow him inside.

Only then did Clara have a chance to carefully observe Ironhold Prison.

The towering outer walls were wrapped in layers of high-voltage barbed wire. In the watchtowers at the corners, guards were fully armed with guns, maintaining tight security.

The guard leading the way had a full equipment belt, carrying two handguns, a baton, pepper spray, a knife, and a walkie-talkie.

Anti-ram spike barriers were set up at the prison entrance, with a squad of sentries stationed there. Whenever anyone approached, everyone would immediately grip their weapons, on high alert.

A strong sense of unease welled up in Clara's heart. This level of top-tier security meant that the people held here were all violent, serious criminals.

Fine beads of cold sweat formed in her palms. She handed over her documents and followed the guard inside. Along the way, the walkie-talkie constantly transmitted conversations between duty personnel.

"This is the temporary rest area. Once the prisoner assignments are complete, you'll be notified of your accommodation." The guard pointed to a room full of chairs and handed Clara a key. "Go wash up and change into the uniform."

Clara felt a twinge of doubt, not understanding why they had to wait for prisoner assignments before their accommodations could be determined. But thinking they were nurses on duty twenty-four hours, she assumed it was work-related and didn't ask further.

There were several other young women in the rest area, chatting and joking familiarly with each other.

"I just saw several muscular prisoners—I'm so excited!"

"I wonder who I'll be assigned to. I don't like guys who are too bulky, but I do like tattoos."

Clara listened to their conversation, feeling extremely strange. These topics didn't sound at all like discussions about medical work—they sounded more like choosing partners.

She found the locker with her name on it and opened it, instantly freezing in place.

The so-called nurse's uniform before her was short and tight, the hem barely covering the tops of her thighs, with an extremely low neckline—completely unsuitable for medical work.

Still puzzled, she noticed the undergarments deeper in the locker. They couldn't even be called proper underwear—just a few thin pieces of lace fabric and some thin strings.

Clara fully realized something was wrong. This nursing job was completely different from any work she'd known before.

Just then, Alice walked in. After taking medication, her physical condition had improved considerably. She ran excitedly to Clara's side.

"Clara, guess what news I just heard?"

Clara looked up blankly. "What news?"

"We need to stay with our assigned prisoners twenty-four hours a day, and we even have to share a room with them."