The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 179

Margot’s POV

The hours crawled by painfully slow.

At first, I told myself Coban would be back soon.

He’d stormed out before. He’d cooled off. Eventually he’d returned.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, the quiet inside the cell started to feel heavier… thicker… like the walls themselves were pressing in around me.

There was still no sign of him.

The wad of money remained exactly where he had left it on the desk.

I hadn’t touched it.

Not once.

It sat there like a silent accusation.

Fifteen thousand pounds.

A neat bundle of crisp notes bound together with a rubber band, close enough that if I extended my hand I could grab it.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because every time my eyes drifted toward it, that same painful thought replayed in my mind.

Take the money and go.

My chest tightened again.

Fine.

If he wanted space, he could have it.

I stood up from the desk and moved toward the small bathroom area instead. The mirror reflected back a tired, red-eyed version of myself that I barely recognised.

My hair was a mess.

My cheeks were blotchy from crying earlier.

The bruises on my neck still there.

I stared at them for a long moment.

Then sighed quietly and stepped into the shower.

The hot water helped a little.

Not enough to fix the knot sitting in my chest, but enough to steady my breathing and clear my head.

When I stepped out again and dried off, the cell was still empty.

Still silent.

Still suffocatingly lonely.

I made the bed next.

Coban had left the blankets twisted and half hanging off the mattress after throwing me onto it earlier. The memory made my chest ache again.

I smoothed the sheets carefully, tucking the corners neatly the way I always did.

Then I sat back down at the desk.

The money was still there.

Still untouched.

Still mocking me.

I pushed the book back open in front of me and tried to focus on the words.

This time… it worked.

Sort of.

Reading had always been my escape.

If I buried myself deep enough inside a story, the world around me faded into the background.

The cell.

The prison.

Coban.

All of it.

Hours passed like that.

Page after page turned beneath my fingers.

Occasionally my eyes would flick to the small box in the corner where the rest of my books were stacked neatly.

I still had plenty left to get through.

At this rate.

might finish half of them before the week ended…

The thought almost made me laugh.

Almost.

But eventually my stomach started to remind me of something else.

Lunch had passed.

Dinner too.

And still…

No Coban.

I closed the book slowly and leaned back in the chair.

“What is your deal?” I murmured quietly to the empty room.

Because I knew this tactic.

The not-feeding-me thing.

He’d done it before.

Used food as control. Punishment.

A reminder that he held all the power.

And he’d vowed not to do it again.

Yet here we were.

My stomach gave another quiet protest.

Fantastic.

I folded my arms across my chest and sighed heavily.

Maybe he just didn’t care at all.

That last thought hurt the most.

Outside the small window high on the wall, the sky slowly darkened.

Night was creeping in.

Which meant lights out soon.

Which meant I’d have to go back to Leo’s cell again.

Still no Coban….

I had just turned another page in my book when the sound of the door unlocking made me jump.

My head snapped around instantly.