No one really gave thought to what it would be like when someone they loved was under prosecution, simply because they felt it was something that could never happen to them. It was something that only came on television. Something that only happened to people thousands of miles away. However, all of that changed dramatically when one found themself presenting I.D. for those visitation days.

Tuesday at 2PM sharp, Emma stood two feet from the short hallway that led to the only door she needed to go through. Her arms were spread away from her sides and her feet shoulder-length apart as a metal-detecting wand outlined her form. The device screeched loudly when it discovered her belt buckle and when it was waved over the most important bracelet (as the man she was coming to see gave it to her) she wore. The older, expressionless pig gave a single curt nod to approve her into the visitation room. Emma quickly dismissed his rudeness and walked down the hall to the door, with her hand already reaching for the handle before even being within actual reaching distance. She pulled it open, walking inside a room longer than it was wide. It was cold inside; reminding her of a doctor's office only a lot tackier and more depressing inside. The walls were hospital white, with the lower half painted a thick color of a moldy green. The frame around the double pane windows were the same color, as were the metal stools and dividers along each phone area. There was a circular camera nestled within the left corner of the room and a large round mirror in the opposite corner. Gloomy, this room was. And the words scratched in the paint of the dividers and small ledges under the tiny windows didn't help to perk her up.

David L. is inoscent, she read on the divider to her right, as she awaited for them to call him in. Points were given for the meaning, though none for spelling. Aqua eyes (already beginning to tear) scanned the rest of the area. She was the only one in here. Good. More of an opportunity to speak undisturbed.

The window in front of her said many things, though 'hey pigg' was what stood out most. How she found herself agreeing to this -- the 'pigg' comment anyway. She continued her reading to kill the agonizingly slow time while she wondered when was he going to get here. She then looked down to the ledge under the window that sported hearts, messy words, symbols, and the maroon paint she found underneath the tasteless green. By the time she looked up, her heart shot immediately up to her throat; choking her off of all words as she saw him sitting down across from her. He was pale, his eyes as dark as ever though they lacked that twinkle. But he was beautiful. She smiled, unable to choke back the tears that fell. The black phone receiver was picked up and placed to her ear as he did the same.

This question he asked every time they spoke on the phone and pissed her off each and every time. Why? Because it made her feel as if he was losing his trust in her while they were separated. Emma was faithful, she had always been and would try her damnedest to be. But... yes, there was something that he would probably like to know, but it was also something she couldn't tell him. She couldn't stand to watch his heart break again. Once was enough, twice would kill her and him both.

"Uh, no? I told you that nothing ever really happens."

"Alright, baby, I was just making sure. I love you."

"I love you too.. bye."

"Bye, baby."

The good-byes were always the most drawn-out and painful part of their phone conversations. However, this time Emma had done it quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid. It stung, yes, but not for the first few seconds. She sat in the corner of her couch with the cordless phone in her hand. Once she had spoken their goodbyes, she hung up. The phone was carelessly tossed over to the other cushion and she sighed. This was getting difficult and she knew that it must've been terrible for Wade. She needed to be here for him. Especially right now. But... there was someone else. There was someone else that had her infatuation and she felt more and more like a horrible person each passing day.