"To me, this world is nothing but evil, and my own evil just happened to come out cause of the circumstances of what I was doing."
- Aileen Wuornos
ONE
IN THE MIDST OF MY FEAR, I had decided that I had to be stark raving mad.
I stood facing the old, towering building and took a deep breath to calm my nerves. The air was thick with tension and balmy heat, the skies were dull and the gloom set a pathetic fallacy to my emotions. Lifting my hand, I used the pad of my thumb to wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead. You asked for this. You picked up your pen and wrote a letter, begging for this. This was the change you had always wanted, right? - I tried to reassure myself - You did this to your own damn self, idiot.
Somewhere inside of me, I knew I had been motivated by something greater and that thing was my past. Tainted with flecks of distrust, hurt and loneliness, it had pushed me to sign up for this job. The demons of my past had me wrapped around their fingers and occasionally knocked me over the head and into dire situations like this. I had tried to keep my lifestyle as monochromatic as ever.
But standing outside the doors of the building that was branded, Stockholm Correction Centre for the Damned, didn't seem monochromatic to me. It was a fissure of explosion that lit up in vibrant red and orange flames. It was blinding, warning me off with its dangerous colours and yet here I was, smack in the middle of the inferno, asking to be burned.
I stumbled into the doors of the building, past the security team, and into the main floor like a rookie at a party.
Almost immediately, I was hit with an odd smell of damp wood, sherry and hairspray. Three very distinct and uncommon smells, especially within the walls of a High Risk Prison - as my sister, Diana, had said over and over again. The oddity of the room didn't come from the smell though, it was due to the fact that I wasn't the only one who had responded to the strange ad.
There were at least twenty other women who surrounded the large space, some perched on the edge of metal chairs, others leaned against the grim concrete walls and all were deep in conversation between themselves. I could tell that these women were probably as idiotic and reckless as I was because there was no way a sane person would be here. Hell, I had even answered the advertisement with a wry disbelieving smile on my face - 1 part because I believed the entire newspaper was bollocks, 99 parts because I was curious about the job. It offered a significant amount of money.
I had come to realise it was real, and curiosity had killed my cat. Violently.
I walked silently through the sparse room and glided into a metal chair at the end of the room. It scraped against the concrete flooring and left a white gash behind. Glancing round the room to see if anyone had seen the damage, I froze. I froze because the scene before me was almost comical. The women in pristine pastel dresses, soft features and coiffed hair seemed to severely juxtapose the grim decor of the building. I hid my laughter behind a cheeky cough.
I didn't attempt to approach the other women because I knew how socially inept I was capable of being. Also, because I felt intimidated. I was the youngest in the room and that would be a disadvantage to me in the interview. Everyone always assumed the youngest was the dumbest.
I sighed and placed an elbow on my knee, my head bobbing against it. My job interview was at 6pm and I had come slightly earlier.
"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?"
I felt my blood rush from my face in a sordid gasp. What the hell was this?
Mirabel took advantage of my stunned silence and continued, "Or did you come here to better your chances at meeting a hot prisoner and having a steamy affair? This isn't a Harlequin novel, my lovely. It's real life and these people are fucking horrible. There are murderers, cannibals and rapists in this building. Look, January, this isn't a joke. There are people who need this job, the money, the mental strain, and you look nothing like them."
Cussing sounded like a gun shot coming out from her mouth. Wanton. I felt like I had exploded out of skin in a ball of anger and imploded back into it with the force of a thousand angry women. The nerve! I scowled so deeply that my face ached and I kept my voice to a calm dangerous level. "Enough."
Mirabel did stop, which was good because I wouldn't have controlled my next action. She didn't look threatened, in fact she leaned back against the chair as if she expected me to get up and leave, or something.
I couldn't stop my teeth from grinding together. "With all due respect, Mirabel" - her name was like acid in my mouth - "I don't know if I have enough patience to tolerate any more of this. I had assumed you had come here for a quick chat but I can now see just how bored and spiteful you are. For your goddamn information, I didn't come here to meet anyone. These are criminals not celebrities. Neither did I come here for a steamy prison affair - that's sick. You're older than me by 2 decades or 3 so I will respect you but that can't happen when you don't reciprocate. Don't ever call me stupid. Ever. Do not insult me."
Mirabel seemed momentarily startled at my word vomit. She ran her eyes over it and even dipped a finger into it. Then sat up straighter and nodded decisively.
Her mouth parted. "OK." she said, as she looked anything but.
"Now if you would excuse me-"
"Wait." She blocked my view. "Do you happen to have a relative in here that you're visiting?"
"Heavens no." I had blurted. Then quickly, I became annoyed that I had answered her question. I snatched my bag from the floor, stood up and edged away from the one person who had now become a damp spot in my mood. "If you'll excuse me, I have an interview in-" I checked the time. 5:59pm. "-It's now actually. Shit."
I glanced around the room with quick eyes, trying to find someone who was looking for me. I moved to ask some one if my name had been called out or anything but Mirabel stood, blocking my path, and stretched out a firm hand towards me.
I looked down at her hand.
Then I looked up to the woman and found her smiling. She had put her bag back on her shoulders and her arms were folded loosely. It was only when I saw her pull back her hair to reveal a Bluetooth speaker lodged in her ear that I realised that she wasn't just a mentally challenged woman who had measled her way in.
She worked here.
This was a set up.
My heart went free fall.
This had been some kind of test to test my level of temper or something. I knew from the apologetic look on her face that I had mucked this one up. Just as I did with everything else. I had come from a far place and now, I would be going back to my sisters apartment with my head hung low in shame.
Diana, my sister, would scream I told you not to go too many times to count.
"I am so so sorry. I-" I had begun.
Mirabels voice cut through mine so clearly and sharply that I heard every enunciation and lilt in her voice. "Don't apologise, Aria Black." My eyes widened on hearing my clean full name come out of her mouth in a cool tone. "I have one more question for you."
I tried to speak but my brain was failing me. I nodded, instead.
"Can you handle the damned?"
I closed my eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.
The pay was a ridiculous amount of money, close to £500 per session, and I and Diana had moved to Stockholm a few months back in order to run away from our damaged pasts. We needed this said money desperately but really, it wasn't the money that did it.
What did it for me was the fact that I knew going back to my black and white lifestyle and having nothing more, would eventually take its toll on me and I would either kill myself or everyone around me. Metaphorically.
I had always said I wanted a massive whirlwind of change but saying and doing were two different things. I bit my lip subconsciously.
I'd just be interviewing them, wouldn't I? I wouldn't even have to speak, I could write down their questions on a sheet of paper and everything. Being the youngest, I would probably even get the least crazy of the Brady bunch.
Was I ready for the damned?
No. Obviously.
I opened my eyes. "I believe I can."
Mirabels lips stretched into a tight smile, knowing that I was lying through my teeth, tongue and eyes.
She nodded sharply, almost reluctantly as if she had wanted me to say no.
"Right answer. Congratulations on passing the first test. Come with me, your interview is about to be begin."
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First chapter, a bit shaky but don't give up on me ❤️ Please don't forget to vote and leave any feedback!