In the four minutes between waking and that message coming through on her phone, Lena had been having what felt like a very real heart attack. She was the sort of person that was a slave to her emotions, but not typically gripped so thoroughly by anxiety. She was too hasty a person to have time for nerves. She acted so quickly in most situations that she only had time to think about what had happened later. But when she woke up that morning, in a familiar jumpsuit, in familiar conditions, her heart roared into overdrive like a freight engine and it was all she could hear. She couldn't breathe. It had finally happened. They'd sent her back. The words of the person above her didn't really filter in, nor did the fact that she was on the wrong bunk.
Slowly, gradually, the other woman's words did register with a small part of Lena's heart. The part desperate to believe she was still free, and she'd never go back to prison. Kidnapped. The girl slid out of bed and was asking her if it was real, and in Lena's utter panic she hadn't even heard nor felt her phone go off.
Pulling it out of her pocket with shaking hands, Lena took huge, gulping breaths of air as she read the message. She could breathe again. Finally, she began to laugh as well. "I don't think so, no. But I think we'll be okay. Simms likes me." More deep, relieved breaths, and Lena grinned as she threw an arm over her eyes. "Jesus Christ, I thought I was back in the slammer."