Behind the Wrong Bars

Behind the Wrong Bars Chapter 1

So, did you enjoy the prologue? I do hope that I can keep this story going good until I finish it. Sadly, I think the updates will be few and far between, but please hang in there. Note: Slightly mature innuendos, connotations and stuff like that. Just no actual...intimate stuff.

Chapter One -- From Earth to hell, I must shed my skin and become one of them

I looked on with unabated terror as the men gathered at the fences to take a look at the newcomer.

I shifted uncomfortably, lowering my head to let my hair fall into my eyes. I mentally swore. Someone out there was laughing their butt off right now.

Among other things, I never complained about my physical constitution. Either way, I did not care. Right now, though, I was thanking every constellation in the sky, so to speak, about the fact that I was a thin, slightly boyish looking girl. And when I say boyish looking I mean generally chest-less. Everything about me was feminine. Although, I supposed, if one did not know my gender, they could simply assume that I was a boy.

A skinny, feminine looking boy.

In a prison of women-deprived men. I wanted to walk up to the metal bus and slam my head against the side of it.

I nearly cried as I walked down the entrance area, subsequently right next to the yard, allowing all present to look at me and judge me. A whole bunch of wolf-whistles followed my steps. I shuddered. If this is what I got as a girly looking boy, what would they do if they knew I was a woman? Without even thinking about it, I knew that that was the one thing I could tell no-one.

I meekly followed the guard as I walked alone down the path for new comers. It was like walking into Tartarus, with the souls of the dead and the damned wailing and howling from the sidelines.

My compliance ended with the words of one inmate. A burly black male leered at me from the other side of the fence. I shuddered. "Hey, cutie!" He called out. I ignored him. "I'll see ya later! I'm gonna try you out, fresh meat!" The man laughed as he gestured crudely with his middle finger. I mirrored his gesture and snarled.

"Why don't you let someone else try you!" I snapped. I hated American prisons. Now more than ever. The man frowned and I sped up my pace, desperate to get away from the mixture laughter at the man and mocking calls of the criminals directed at me.

xxxxxx

"Mishiranu Hikage." The man behind the desk read my file. "Second degree murder? You are one lucky child, only getting 19 years. Sadly, I don't see you lasting a week in here." He laughed at his own terrible joke as he looked over my physical stature. I furrowed my brow. I had a guess as to why, but I was just going to check.

"Why?" I asked quietly. The man suddenly stopped laughing.

"Why?" He began laughing again. "He asks why!" The man repeated to the other guards in the room.

I happily noted that he thought I was a boy. I suppose that whoever had gotten me in here had also tweaked my files as a minor gesture of kindness. Or as a way of actually just getting me stuck in a male prison.

I shook my head back into reality when the man behind the desk - Mr. Delaney, I read on his identification tag - rounded his attention on me again. "Kid, you are probably the youngest in this prison." He started in a deadly serious voice, all his previous mirth laughed out. "You have the face of a teen, a borderline frail body and the features of a little angle. You will not last."

I lowered my head. Go figure.

Someone walked into the room, carrying a bland set of clothing. A black pair of pants and a white shirt that would, thankfully, hang a bit large on me. As I was handed my new clothes, Mr. Delaney stood up and put his hand on my shoulder.