Behind the Wrong Bars

Behind the Wrong Bars Chapter 1

"Look, kid. We are not going to interfere with anything that happens in here unless it affects us. I am not going to deny it. You are on your own, because in here, everyone is at fault. You had better find yourself some friends, or at least a protector, because if you get caught alone..." He trailed off there, leaving the sentence hanging in the air.

I nodded.

I changed into my new clothes with efficient speed. I tied up my long hair with my hair tie. I would need to cut it - and fast. The black pants clung to my legs, something I did not know whether to be grateful for or to completely abhor. The white shirt was a bit loose, but it only exposed my collarbones and a few centimetres under them. It hung down to the top part of my thighs, covering my rear end. I immediately missed my comforting black jacket, something I had always insisted on wearing, even in court during my trial. I was allowed to keep wearing my black converse shoes. And my lovely brown, leather wrist strap. I looked in the mirror in the small bathroom I stood in. I ran my fingers through the shorter strands of hair that hung free from my swiftly tied pony tail. The ink-black hair slid through my fingers.

I looked into my reflections eyes. The misty-blue stared back at me. My bright eyes were slightly dimmed at the prospect of everything that could happen when I stepped out of this relatively safe room. My skin was paler than usual, now a ghostly pallor.

Lowering my head, I looked sadly at my long hair as it hung past my waist. It would have to go. I was surprised that the men in the courtyard had not put the pieces together already. I was also kind of thankful.

And at the same time... I cut my thoughts off.

xxxxxx

"Mishiranu Hikage. You are in the Western Wing, Block C. Follow me." A guard wearing a black/ navy blue uniform approached me. I looked into his mud-brown eyes with shock.

"The Western Wing?!" I cried out in shock. I had just read through the rules and regulations book that belonged to the prison. The Western wing housed all the long term criminals (life sentence and up).

"Why am I being placed in the western wing?" I asked as I stood up and slowly followed the man after picking up my blanket and pillow. I still was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was in the prison, me being in the western wing just made my problems worse.

"We are filling up in the other areas, the Western Wing is the only one with cells empty." I groaned.

Of all the bad things that could happen to a good person. This ranked right up there with mass murder and rape. And with my luck, those were going to happen, and not necessarily in that order.

I kept my head bowed as I walked through the Western wing. I avoided looking up and causing unnecessary challenge between myself and one of the steroid infused criminals that I now shared a Wing with.

I was no longer on Earth. I had walked into Hell's chambers. And I would need to use all my wits to survive and climb my way out of the pits of this underworld.

"You are on the third level. Follow me." The guard instructed me, leading me up the staircase and heading towards an empty cell.

"Are all the cells divided by race?" I asked. I had noted that on the bottom level the cells were being occupied by black people, the second floor Hispanics etc while the floor I was one was mainly white people. I felt ever so slightly affronted by that. But then again...

"Do I have a..cell mate?" I asked hesitantly, my blood draining from my face.

"Yep. A..Jason Demier." And with that, the guard walked off. He just...turned around and went back down the sitars. I looked at the back of his head incredulously before sliding into my cell without drawing any attention to myself.