Worst Behaviour <Discontinued>

0.1

[Shawn's POV]

This was the first day of my eighteen month sentence.

I put all of my decorative items, as well as photographs, in the plastic bag provided. I dropped it in the grey tray that was sitting on the conveyor belt.

I walked through the metal detector. I was clean and I knew it.

"Mendes, come with me." A woman with a tight blonde ponytail in a uniform said. I looked up and followed her down a hallway.

At the end of the hallway there was a door labeled 'Strip Search'.

I cringed inwardly.

"Mr. Mendes, I'm Morgan Olivia, Ms. Olivia to you. I'm the governor of this correctional facility but most inmates call me the warden. Once you're settled, your peer worker will explain the rules in detail." I finally pick up her British accent.

I nod. Olivia opens the door to the strip search room and gestures for me to go inside. I walk in. Luckily she closes the door behind me, as opposed to coming in with me.

A tall, olive toned guard with dark brown hair, plump red lips and huge muscles that were tamed by his uniform gave me smile that said I should hurry up. I gulped and walked over to him.

"Strip." He said simply.

"I can't..." I say quietly while looking at the ground.

"Got something to hide?" He asks in his deep Australian accent.

"N-no."

"Then you shouldn't be worried. Now strip." He tells me. I gulp again and pull off my maroon t-shirt. My hands find the button of my blue skinny jeans. I undo them and pull down the zipper, yanking them down my legs. I look down at my black Calvin Klein boxers.

I pulled them down in one swift motion and stepped out of them, as well as my vans and socks.

The guard picked up the pile of clothes and dropped them in a bin. He pulled latex gloves from a box on the counter near the bin. He walked back over to me while pulling on the gloves.

"Let's get started then. I'm Mr. Murphy, by the way, but everyone here calls me Murph." He says while chuckling a little. I nod.

"It makes it a little less awkward if you make conversation." He says. "Show me your hands." He told me.

I outstretch my hands. He checks the back of my hand and my palms.

"I'm Shawn Mendes and I'm really uncomfortable with my body. Well not really with my body. I'm uncomfortable letting people see my body." I say as he checks my belly button.

"Lean your head forward." He tells me. I comply. "And how old are you Shawn?" He asks while running his hands through my hair, checking it for incriminating items.

"I'm twenty-one years old. I'll be turning twenty-two in two months." I tell him as he uses a flashlight and checks my ears and nose. "How old are you?" I ask as he walks away to get a tongue depressor.

"I'm turning thirty next month." He says while coming back over with the wooden prod. He sticks it in my mouth, using it to sweep the sides and move my tongue around.

"Are you married?" I ask once the depressor is out of my mouth.

"No, I haven't really found anyone that interests me." He says. "Lift up your foot." He commands.

I lift up my foot and spread my toes. He examines them and then I have to switch to the next foot, doing the same thing.

Now for the dreaded part. He looks down at my junk.