The Prisoner Project

ONE

"Good evening," I heard beside me and glanced up to see the striking grey eyes of an elderly woman. She looked well past her fifties and obviously didn't qualify for the job so I assumed she had fought her way past the security team with either force or cookies. I raked my eyes over her elegant shoes, white dress and manicured nails.

Definitely the latter.

I smiled, in response to her greeting.

The clock ahead of me read 5:50pm.

She continued to look at me and then her mouth opened. "So," she started. "What are you in for?"

I rose a brow.

Before I could form a reply, the older lady threw her dark hair back and laughed heartily. Her laugh felt like a limb that stuck out from under the table and tripped me, and half the room. It was disjointed because despite the fact that it was loud and audible, it felt wrong to laugh in a place like this.

She caught herself quickly and cleared her throat. "My apologies. It was a joke, considering we are within the walls of a prison. That phrase is common lingo for first time prisoners."

I forced a chuckle. "Good thing we're not prisoners."

"Says who?" She said, her smile still plastered on. "We'll have to wait and see."

I shrugged despite my confusion. "Um.."

She waved away my confusion. "I'm Mirabel, and you are?"

My personal information was something I didn't feel comfortable sharing so I pretended not to hear her.

Instead of taking the hint, Mirabel repeated, in my peripheral vision. "I asked for your name, darling."

Mirabel couldn't take a hint even if you wrapped it in a pretty box and mailed it to her post code address. She seemed to not be budging so I had to force myself to be okay with her small talk. "January."

I had lied through my teeth, I wanted to separate my real name as far away as possible from this place.

"Like the month?" She asked, and when I nodded in response, she grinned with her crooked teeth. "How unique. I love it."

I softened towards Mirabel.

"Mirabel is pretty unique too." I muttered, for good measure.

Mirabel ignored my compliment, it bounced off her. She turned her full attention on to me, twisting her body to face me completely. "So tell me, January, who are you here to see today?"

I blinked a couple of times in confusion. Her question was odd. This was a prison for the damned. Why would anyone travel all the way here to visit someone who had done something so heinous that they deserved to be locked up here in the first place? I couldn't help my gaze that tore across the horrid place. This was just the main hall. I didn't want to imagine how a cell, or room, or cage - if I dared imagine - would look like.

I asked, with wide eyes. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know..." Mirabel wiggled her brows suggestively. And then Mirabel morphed before my very eyes. Gone was the charming old woman and here sitting beside me was someone more severe. Her smile was replaced with an impassive expression. It irked me. "You're very young by the looks of it and most probably, impossibly stupid and curious. Perhaps you saw the advert and thought you could come here to catch a glimpse of a famous serial killer you've read about in those little novels? Jeffrey Dahmer maybe? Lucas De Santio? Or oh, the people's favourite, The Zodiac Killer?"