Her
Two
Two fucking weeks.
I have been locked up for two fucking weeks. Only two weeks and I am already going insane. Literally insane. You know I have always been good at staying to myself. Staying to my own thoughts you know isolation. This. This. This jail cell is not what is expected. Not what one thinks of isolation.
The jail cell is concrete all over, it is not cracked probably for good reason. There are no windows not even one. One they couldn't give me one fucking window. A small on a 1x1 even. ANYTHING. But no nothing.
NOTHING
A small cot type of bed. On the floor. Let me repeat that for the ones in the back. ON. THE. FUCKING. FLOOR. I mean I am a criminal aren't I? Right?
The point is I'm losing it severely. I mean my lawyer said that there is a possibility that I could do up to 23 years. Years umm wtf. I have been here for barely two weeks. Maybe I could pull a Spencer and Mona from Pretty Little Liars.
I mean they both found a way to escape going to jail by going to a psych ward. I could totally do that. I mean imagine having my own personal room. And showers and toilets may be supervised and not the best but at least it won't have to be worried about dropping the soap.
Then imagine being able to eat without having someone steal your food, spitting in it, or punching you for sitting in a fucking seat that you didn't even know was claimed. Or being in those rooms where they sit you and you draw or make a puzzle or play some board game. I mean compared to this shit hole, the Psych ward seems like heaven.
Pulling that plan would be easy. Just the other day. Or 3 days ago, whatever. I was laying down trying to forget about the ideas swarming in my head.
Who framed me?
How do I escape?
I should kill Mateo.
That last one can stay for all I care. Leave me in here long enough and I will totally get it done. Back to the point I was trying to get rid of the thoughts when two pairs of hands were on me. I focused and it was two officers holding me in place. Apparently, I was banging my head on the pillow, I was trying to get rid of the thoughts remember? Anyways once they realized I was clearly no harm they left. I could pull off crazy bitch if I wanted to.
When I am not obligated to eat or sit outside somewhere, I sit on the floor in this cell. Back against the wall, knees to my chest, arms crossed on top with my head resting on them. I sit in this position as long as possible. The same three thoughts going through my head. I am really trying to figure out who would do this and how.
It is making me insane you know? I don't know how the other cellmates do it. Maybe because they are actually criminals. Or maybe they are just stronger. Well, I know they are. Women are way harder to manipulate. Mostly because they are smarter than any other species, in many ways. I have bruises all over from where they have taken hits. Most of them see me as the weak nerd girl who hacked a bank. But others see me as fresh meat and all they want is to really tear me up.
Don't get me wrong I have the strength physically to protect myself. But mentally, I don't even care about fighting back. I have truly lost myself here. Great now I'm getting sad about the past. Like when I would be able to stay on the sofa and watch Damon Salvator and watch him drink and be the most gorg-
"Miss me, baby?"
YOU ARE READING
For Me
Teen FictionAurora has a fractured past but grows form it instead of breaking under it. She learns skills on how to live her life better and control all that's around her. Except she was not anywhere prepared for the events that followed her.
