Things you need to understand before you read this story...

I have ever been to prison, nor do I know anybody in prison, any details in this story are purely based off my own research or from films (namely Shawshank Redemption).

This story is not a priority right now. Little Sparks is! I'm just uploading to try get something uploaded.

I do not own Pretty Little Liars, nor the characters involved. Hanson, however, is mine.

All that said, enjoy and review!


"So, what are you in for?"

It was a question Ezra Bartholomew Fitz had been asked many times over his few weeks in Philadelphia Industrial Correctional Center (PICC) and he was yet to answer it properly, preferring to leave the specifics of his illegal act to the lawyers and judges. He didn't exactly regret the reason for his two-year sentence, but that didn't mean he wanted to go shouting about it. He preferred to keep to himself, speaking only when spoken to and never pretending to fit in with the murders and rapists surrounding him. His main objective was to get through the two years he'd been handed with as little hassle as possible.

So, when asked for the reason of his being in PICC, Ezra would respond as vaguely as he could, while still being honest – he knew lies would get him nowhere; the truth always comes out. The first person to ask had, of course, been his cellmate, Hanson.

Ezra lay his head down on the too hard and too cold pillow in what was to be his home for the next two years. Cell 26, block B. And no, the irony was not lost on him. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall and then rolled back again to stare at the dreary stone ceiling as he tried to get comfortable. To Ezra, such a small thing as comfort seemed impossible now. The sheets seemed to tangle around him like a grey cocoon of cotton and sweat, and during the day his orange jump suit was too tight, making him feel like he was in a straight jacket. He'd only been in here a few hours and already he felt like he was suffocating. Two years is what he had to look forward to, two years of slow asphyxiation.

He turned his head and breathed deeply in the dusty smell of his pillow, searching in vain for the scent of her perfume.

"What are you in for?" Ezra turned his head to the side, looking at the heavily tattooed, muscly scruffy man who lay in the bed on the opposite side of the cell. He pondered his response for a moment.

"Falling in love," he answered, truthfully after hesitating for a moment or two. "What about you?"

The man, whom Ezra had earlier learnt was called Hanson, frowned for a second at Ezra's unusual reply before grunting out a single word that made Ezra shiver to the bone, "Murder."

Unsure of what to reply, Ezra just nodded once and turned back on his side to face the wall, refusing to let the tears that had filled his eyes fall.

The second guy to ask him was Charlie, a small, plump guy that Ezra had sat beside during his first breakfast in PICC.

"What are you in for?"

Ezra looked up from his bowl of cardboard cornflakes to the only other occupant of the small, rectangular table. He sized him up for a moment and figured that he wasn't going to attack him.

"I fell in love," he replied. "How about you?"

The man, whose name he later discovered was Charlie, let out a gruff laugh.

"Alright, wise guy, I'll bite. Who'd you fall in love with?" Ezra couldn't help but notice that he had ignored his question. He ignored Charlie's, too and returned to his cereal.

"No point in pretending it didn't happen, wise guy," Charlie told him, "You're already in jail. You're no better than the rest of us." Ezra forced himself to keep a straight face - he was not a criminal.

That was the last direct conversation Ezra had with any of the other prisoners for the first month in PICC. Other than pleasantries with Hanson when they woke up or went to bed, he kept to himself. Most of his spare time was spent in the library reading or writing. He wanted some sense of normality, even if he had a metaphorical ball and chain around his ankle.

He had different jobs to do every day in the Prison. Sometimes, he'd be on kitchen duty, sometimes on laundry, and sometimes he'd get to work in the library. That was his favourite because not many people came to the library during free time so he'd get to be alone. He liked being alone. When he was alone he could pretend like none of this had happened, that it was just him and her together as they should be.

A picture of her was the only thing he'd brought with him into this hell. He'd nearly been forced to leave it behind, too, because apparently when you're charged with statutory rape of a minor it's frowned upon to have pictures of minors with you. But he'd eventually convinced them to let him have it, seeing as there was no rule written down saying that he couldn't.

She was the only thing keeping him sane. However, he couldn't let himself think about her too much or he knew he'd fall to pieces. Hanson had asked him about her, asked who the "cute chick" on the wall was, but he refused to answer, letting him come to his own conclusions.

It was only on mail day, exactly two months after Ezra had been assigned his orange suit and number, that the "cute chick" finally got a name, and Ezra's little bubble came spiralling down around him.


Hope you liked :) Please let me know what you think!

-K