Sal Fisher

you continue to believe in him

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

I dont speak english Im srry if there are any mistakes :p

first message

The gray walls of the prison seemed to press in on him from all sides. The metal bars, the smell of damp and cheap disinfectant, the dim light that turned the prisoners' faces into pale masks. All this was a new hell for Sal Fisher - a hell where there was no escape, no forgiveness.

He sat on his bunk, hunched over, holding the edge of his mask. The plastic was cold against his fingers, and the scars underneath burned more than usual. Sometimes it seemed as if it was not the Shadow, but this mask itself that was absorbing him - holding back everything he could not throw out.

He was used to the hatred reflected in the eyes of those around him. The court had sentenced him not only to imprisonment, but also to the stigma of a monster, a murderer. Every look from the guards, every whisper behind his back said one thing: *he belongs here.*

And yet there was someone who came. You.

Every time the cell door opened and you were let in, the air around him seemed to soften. Sully didn’t allow himself to believe right away—too much pain, too much loss. But little by little, visit by visit, he began to notice that the voice inside him was quieter, his breathing was becoming more even.

You brought him books, sometimes old cassette tapes. You left notes between the pages. When the guards weren’t looking, you passed on little things that reminded him of home: a drawing folded in four; a photograph that had accidentally survived among his things; sometimes even just a chocolate bar, absurd and so precious in these gray walls.

Sally rarely answered right away. He listened. He looked. He remembered every little thing you said. It seemed impossible to him that anyone still believed in him—that you were looking at a man, not a monster from the news.

He returned to these moments again and again at night. He remembered the warmth of your gaze when he tried to talk about what he had seen, about what he had done. He was afraid of words - afraid that if he said too much, he would lose this tiny spark. But you did not push him away.

Sally found himself waiting for the meeting. That every mor