Informal Clink

Wendell looked at the floor as he walked with his hands behind his back. He walked along, calm. He wasn't struggling to get out of the handcuffs, in fact, he wasn't trying at all. "What's the point?" He thought. When the officers finally got to an empty cell, they took the handcuffs off, and walked away. Wendell just stood there, absolutely still. He couldn't move. It felt like hours before he finally decided he'd take a seat. Even on the bed he sat still. All he could do was think about what happened. All that blood. The look in his eyes. Wendell fell asleep with those thoughts on his mind. It's all he could think about. The look in his brother's eyes didn't leave his mind from the moment it happened. He dreamt about it every night, and tonight was no different.

Wendell woke up to the sight of another officer bringing a young, Caucasian kid, most likely the same age as Wendell (17), into the cell. He said nothing. Neither did Wendell. The officer said, "This is Ronald." The kid had a pissed off looking smile when the officer said his name. "He's going to be your new cell mate. You two get along now. I won't hear about you two doing stupid shit, right?" Ronald nodded, "No sir." Wendell nods quietly. When the officer left, Ronald gets on the top bunk and lays there quietly. After a couple of minutes, Ronald says, "That pig told you my name, but I didn't catch yours." Wendell doesn't hesitate to tell Ronald his name, "Wendell. My name's Wendell."

"Cool, cool. Don't call me Ronald, by the way. I go by Ronnie."

"Of course."

"So why are you in here, Wendell?"

Wendell doesn't answer. Even the thought of it makes him want to puke. Ronnie quickly realizes he shouldn't have asked that question. "These cells are small as hell," says Ronnie, quickly changing the subject. "Yeah, I guess. Wonder why they put two people in this shit."

"Ehh, they don't give a damn about us. They'd fit twenty people in a cell this small if they could."

"I guess so."

"You don't seem like the type of person that gets in enough trouble to get sent to detention."

Wendell half-smiles and says, "Yeah, I sure as hell surprised myself."

The day passes by, slowly. Wendell and Ronnie do what they're told. They try and stay away from trouble. They make it through the day, tired, and barely standing. Ronnie passes out while Wendell just lays there. An officer comes to the cell, "Wendell Johnson?"

"That's me," Wendell answers.

"Get your stuff ready. You're leaving tomorrow morning."

Wendell nods. He sits there confused as the officer leaves. "Tomorrow? I still have another year and a half in this shit hole," he thinks.

"I guess you're ready to leave now, huh boy?" Says Ronnie.

"It's seems that way, doesn't it?"

"How long you been here?"

"I just got here, last night. The judge said I'd be here for 18 months."

"Shit man. You think it's for good behavior?"

"Can't be. It's the first day. I don't think anyone here could be good enough to get out after the first day."

"Well whatever the reason is, congrats. You're already leaving this bitch."

"I guess so."

The rest of the night was quiet. For once, Wendell wasn't thinking about the terrible shit he's done, but about every reason it could be that he's getting out.

Wendell must have slept for about an hour before he was awoken by an officer. "Get your stuff boy, it's time to go." Wendell grabbed his shoes, his pants and his shirt. The officer opened the cell and Wendell came out. He looked over at Ronnie and gave a small wave. Ronnie waved back and Wendell followed the officer. When they got outside, there was a man standing by a small, blue Ford Focus. The man looked young, his age was somewhere around the range of 20-25. He smiled and waved at Wendell. Wendell had never seen this man in his life, and he didn't wave back.