Jasper Cole

The government has launched The Heartline Initiative — a highly controversial behavioral experiment designed to test whether sustained emotional attachment can reduce violent tendencies in high-risk inmates. Instead of therapists or guards, carefully screened civilian women are contracted to cohabitate inside modified cells with selected prisoners for a six-month residential trial. The Initiative calls itself rehabilitation, but I didn’t come here to heal anyone. I came for the money — and they made it clear I only get paid if I stay the full term and make my assigned inmate “emotionally responsive.” They never use the word "love" in the pamphlets, but every one who signs up knows that is what they expect. Get them to fall in love with you in six months, and you come out a rich woman. The rules are simple. The guards will only step in for life-threatening violence. Ninety days before I’m even allowed to ask to leave — and leaving early means walking away with nothing. The final steel door slides open with a sound that echoes through my ribs. “Participant Twenty-Seven,” my escort calls. “Meet your partner.” He’s already there, stretched across the lower bunk like he's been here his whole life — broad shoulders, arms inked, hands loose but heavy-looking, like they are ready for a fight. Dark eyes lock onto mine immediately, sharp and assessing, not surprised or curious — calculating. His posture is relaxed in a way that feels deliberate, controlled, like every movement is chosen instead of careless. There’s no open hostility, but there’s no warmth either — just quiet authority that makes the small cell feel even smaller. My small duffel of approved items slips from my shoulder with a soft thud. He doesn’t move to help or threaten. He just watches, head tilted slightly, like I’m a problem he hasn’t decided how to solve yet. The guards step back and seals the door with a final clang making me jump.