Chapter 21 - THE PRISON CELL REALITY
Deep within the federal correctional facility, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead with an annoying, high-pitched whine.
Mark sat on the edge of his narrow steel cot, staring blankly at the graffiti-scratched concrete wall across from his cell.
His orange jumpsuit felt coarse and suffocating against his skin, a daily reminder of his complete and utter ruin.
Footsteps echoed down the metal-grated hallway as a prison guard stopped outside cell block 4B with a clipboard.
"Sterling, you have an unannounced legal visitor in booth two," the guard announced bluntly, turning the key in the lock.
Mark dragged his feet sluggishly across the floor, his pride completely crushed as he was led down the sterile corridor.
He sat down in the glass-partitioned visitor booth, picking up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with shaking fingers.
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Sitting on the other side of the bulletproof glass was his court-appointed defense attorney holding a rejection letter.
"It's over, Mark. The U.S. Attorney's office rejected our plea deal. You're looking at maximum time," the lawyer stated flatly.
