by Logan Byrne
We walked down the hall, his hand resting on my shoulder as he walked behind me. I didn’t look at the other prisoners in their holding cells. I knew they were all smirking, as if they took great revel and pride in seeing me being treated like this. They would’ve been happy seeing any cop in this position, because I didn’t know any of them and I certainly didn’t arrest any of them.
“I will have five minutes before the room becomes recorded. I pulled some strings internally so that I could speak to you,” Mirian whispered as we walked down an empty hallway towards the interrogation room. “Don’t reply.”
I felt a little butterfly in my stomach, knowing he was putting on a show, before we walked into the interrogation room and he shut the door. Another cop who I recognized as part of the resistance was standing outside guarding the entrance. “What did you do?” he asked, taking off the cuffs.
“Mirian, I swear on my life that I would never attempt what Kiren is accusing me of,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Then how does he know who you are, and why is he picking you out of the blue?” he asked.
“I did something. Well, Charlie, Faus, and I. We went to the gala,” I said.
“Lexa,” he sighed, putting his hand to his forehead.
“I wanted to get more information, and I got it. Well, Faus got it, but I think I messed up. I left a light on in Kiren’s office, and he must’ve known somebody had been there and took prints. That’s the only way,” I said.
“Or cameras, which wouldn’t be great,” he said.
“No, I remember that I had a transformation spell active. It wasn’t that. But you have to believe me,” I said.
“I do, Lexa, I do. I know you aren’t stupid enough to attempt a hit on Kiren’s life or anything close to that, but I still cannot believe you thought doing this, especially without my help, was a smart move. I can’t get you out of this one,” he said sadly.
“What do you mean? Surely you can,” I said, my stomach dropping.
“Lexa, this isn’t another cop accusing you. This is the president accusing you, and he isn’t going to just not follow up. He’ll make sure you go down for this. He’ll be watching everybody with a microscope, especially if anything happens to you,” Mirian said.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked.
“You’re going to Filtonshire,” he said, looking at me with saddened eyes. “He wants you locked up somewhere safe for him.”
Filtonshire. That name was synonymous with serial killers and the worst of the worst in the magical realm. It was a maximum-security prison, one that you didn’t escape from, unless you died within the walls. It was in the Swiss Alps, an already difficult place to live, and I guess they figured if they didn’t kill you, the elements would. I couldn’t believe he wanted me there.
“He just wants me somewhere he knows I won’t get away from,” I said.
“Of course he does, why wouldn’t he? He must know, or suspect, that you’re part of the resistance. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to flush the rest of us from the precinct. Your actions might have serious ramifications for us all,” Mirian said, not holding back on the jabs.
“Way to make me feel bad,” I said, sitting down.
“The truth stings, Lexa. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or that I love you less, but you really messed up here,” Mirian said.
“So I go to Filtonshire, then what?” I asked.
“Pote will try to get you out, but that isn’t an easy job. We’ve done it before, but they catch wind every time we get somebody out. Besides, once you’re out, assuming we complete the job, where do you go then? We’ll have to hide you somewhere until we can take care of the current administration,” he said.
“So no more friends, no more job, no more boyfriend—no more anything, really,” I said, my head hanging low.
“We will get through this, but for now, I’m going to have to flip a switch and begin interrogating you like I would any other prisoner. I have to maintain my other persona so they don’t catch on to me,” Mirian said, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“I understand, Mirian. Thank you for looking out for me,” I said, before sticking out my hands to be secured to the table. Mirian handcuffed them, shackled in front of me, and I felt an overwhelming sense of defeat come crashing down on me.
“Remember to maintain your innocence. We will get you out, I promise,” he said, before giving me a peck on the forehead. A single tear splashed onto the metal table, the bright light overhead illuminating it, as I looked at a distorted version of myself reflected in the steel. Why did I have to be so ambitious that night? I should’ve let it go. I really should’ve.
Mirian didn’t hold back in the interrogation, treating me just like any scumbag prisoner he normally interviewed. I kept silent except to say I was innocent. I wasn’t giving Kiren any ammunition, and I was going to try whatever I could to make sure my stay at Filtonshire was as brief as humanly possible. If anybody could fudge the evidence and get me free, it was Mirian. I just prayed he did it fast.
2
My docket said that I would be transported with the other prisoners to Filtonshire tomorrow morning. I had no idea what they were in for, but I knew it couldn’t be good.
I lay on my cot alone inside my holding cell as I gazed up at the cracked cement ceiling and wondered what Blake, Britta, Charlie, and Faus were doing and thinking right now. Charlie was now without a partner, and I knew he was going to stress out about that. His workload wasn’t going to get any lighter, and even though I was the one on the chopping block, I still felt bad for him.
He was right that night, when he said that we should hold back, but I didn’t listen to him. I thought I knew better than him, and that in the end he would say I knew best and that he was sorry once I got the data I needed, but that was far from the case. He was right, I was wrong, and I couldn’t even see him to tell him so.
I thought about Blake, too, sitting there watching me be arrested and taken away, and what that must’ve done to him. I was falling in love with him. He was the first guy I’d ever had true feelings for, and now even if I did get out of Filtonshire I’d likely be a wanted fugitive, living my life in resistance camps doing who knows what while Blake moved on and found somebody he could actually be with.
That was the worst part, knowing that I wouldn’t have a normal life—not that my life in the precinct was average to begin with. All I did was work, eat, and sleep, in that order, and even though I loved the difference I made in the world, I didn’t love the freedom the job denied me. I guess I would be able to catch up on my sleep in prison, if that was something to look forward to.
I was jostled awake the next morning as my eyes shot open to see a guard standing over me, pointing a wand at my neck. “Get up, you’re being transported,” he said gruffly.
I got up, putting on my shoes, before he cuffed me and stuck me in a line of other prisoners who must’ve been sharing my fate. I looked around the precinct, getting a few last glimpses of it, shaking my messy hair out of my face, before I walked up to the front of the line where auditors were ready to transport us.
“Ready,” one said to another.
Both of them grabbed me before we ripped and twisted through space and time, arriving outside the maximum-security prison. It had a certain grandeur, with hulking cement walls stretching up as far as the eye could see. I could feel a constant chilling breeze sinking into my bones, an insistent reminder of the coldness and lack of life this prison provided. They wanted the prisoners to feel like their lives were over, that death was upon them, and the biting Swiss mountain air was a great way to remind them of that.
I could hear the prisoners in their cells, in the distance. They were rowdy, yelling and screaming, sounds of terror that would haunt my dreams. “Female witch,” a guard said, before two women officers came and grabbed me.
“What’s happening?” I asked nervously.
“Shut up. You won’t speak unless spoken to
,” one said, before roughly pulling me into a room.
“Undress,” the other said, putting on latex gloves.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“All female witches and male wizards must be strip-searched upon arrival to make sure no unauthorized contraband, like wands, is on their person. I can guarantee you that we hate doing this just as much as you hate having it done. Undress yourself now or we will do it for you,” the first woman snapped.
I felt numb as they searched me, tears running down my cheeks, though my face didn’t give off any emotion. I was humiliated, terrified, and violated beyond belief. The search lasted a few minutes, though it felt like a lifetime. Then they handed me my new clothes, a dark purple jumpsuit, and told me to put it on.
I slipped the rough fabric against my skin. The purple shade matched a bruise on my thigh, likely a symbol for a witch or wizard. I guess they wanted to distinguish what powers, if any, the prisoners had in case we ever caused a problem. I couldn’t say I blamed them; there were a lot of creatures out there and you had to be prepared.
My heart was racing as they took me out of the search room. I shuffled my feet, their hands on my back, guiding me. I was put with two other people, one in orange and the other in black. I watched as they started to take away the other prisoners who came through the portal with me.
“Where are they going? Shouldn’t we go with them?” I asked, nervous.
“You’re not fit for where they’re going,” a guard said.
“An attack on the president’s life gets you special treatment, away from the general population,” another said.
“Looks like you’re hanging out with us,” the man in black said, smiling and baring his crusty rotting teeth.
I felt an overwhelming sense of despair as the guards got the okay and started to move us to a more secure area of the prison. If I thought Filtonshire was bleak when I first came in, this area was a dystopian wasteland of immense proportions. There was nothing to it, no sense of happiness, and definitely no sense of hope. The walls were thick cement with steel embedded in them. As we walked I felt a small breeze whistle through the hallway in front of me. I shivered, my nose running a bit, as they stopped in front of a cell. “You, witch, in here,” the guard said, before motioning another guard in a monitoring booth above, surrounded by glass and steel, to open the doors.
A loud buzzer went off and the bars opened. She pushed me inside before the doors shut and she finally removed my restraints. She didn’t say anything else, walking away with the two others. I wrapped my hands around the cold metal bars and felt the chill of my actions sink in as I listened to hyena-like laughter in the distance.
I turned around to look at my cell. It wasn’t large, maybe eight feet wide, ten deep, though the ceiling was about ten feet high as well. There was a twin-sized bed, a bunk bed, but the stuffing was starting to pour out of a rip in the mattress. There was a sheet and a blanket, both of which were muddied and riddled with small holes, the pillow looking lumpy. I sat on the bed, sinking down as the rusty metal frame squeaked with even the smallest movement. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I looked at the metallic toilet and sink combination in the corner. I could already feel the frigid chill emanating from them even though I wasn’t even near touching them. A mouse scurried past me and out between the bars, but I didn’t even flinch. How could I? A mouse was the least of my worries here.
I sniffled, before lying back on my cot and curling up in a ball, huddling under the sheets as I tried to keep warm. I started to go slightly mad, counting the seconds, wondering when Mirian was going to break through with a SWAT team to rescue me. They never did. Instead, I heard laughs and screams, saw about three cockroaches, and listened to my stomach as it gurgled with hunger pains.
This was my reality now.
3
I woke up the next morning to the loud clanging of a buzzer overhead, springing up out of my bed with my eyes open as wide as they could go. “What’s going on?” I asked aloud, even though the buzzer drowned out my voice.
I wiped my nose with my sleeve, before the door to my cell opened, along with everybody else’s, and people started to walk out of their cells. Was this a breakout? Did the resistance come already? It had to be them! I was going to get out of here!
I walked out, looking around me, but nobody seemed to be freaking out or running. They walked, single-file, in the direction I came in from yesterday. I walked along with them, careful to keep enough distance between me and the person in front of me, before we turned into a large room that I hadn’t noticed yesterday. My stomach rumbling, I smelled something that resembled food, but it didn’t smell pleasant.
We were in a dated and stale cafeteria where the seats were affixed to the floor. Everything was metallic, and plastered into the cement so nobody could presumably use them as a weapon. I walked up to the counter and grabbed a tray. They came from behind the wall, through a slot just big enough for the tray to slide through. I started to walk into the fray. People looked at me, grabbing their seats, as if they all knew I was alone and new. I didn’t see many purple jumpsuits; most of them were orange, black, or green.
Looking around for a place to sit, I saw a table with only one person sitting at it. She was a smaller girl with curly red hair and a few freckles scattered across her face. Her table was broken, so I thought maybe that was why nobody else was sitting with her, or maybe there was another, worse reason.
She glanced up at me as I sat down, confused, a peculiar look of puzzlement on her face. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi, may I sit here?” I asked.
“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, before going back to her food.
I looked down at mine, poking it with my spoon. I was sure it squirmed a little on the tray. There wasn’t much. A brownish gruel was the main course, with crumbling bread that was pretty much powder and some rice that looked like it lost its luster last century. As I looked at it in disgust, my stomach rumbled, and I knew I couldn’t let this go to waste. I needed to eat, and as much as I would hate it, this food would keep me alive.
“I saw you come in yesterday,” the girl said, her head still down.
“Oh, yeah, I’m new here. Are you?” I asked.
“I’ve been here three months,” she replied.
“When do you get out?” I asked.
She looked up at me, her eyebrows furled, before shaking her head. “Never,” she said, as if I should’ve known.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“By the sounds of it, you won’t be, either. That was a big play, trying to assassinate the president. People here have been talking,” she said.
“I was framed, I didn’t do it. I would never. I’m actually—”
“A cop, I know. We all know. That’s what makes it even more bizarre,” she said.
“My name is Lexa,” I said, trying to change the subject.
“Rosie,” she said, nodding. “We’re actually neighbors.”
“I didn’t even notice, I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to. Most people here don’t notice me anyway. I heard you crying last night. The first week is always the hardest, but it does get better. Well, it doesn’t get better, I guess, but it gets easier. You just have to make the best of it,” she said.
“And how do you do that?” I asked.
“Survive,” she said frankly.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do, and how old are you? You seem, well, young,” I said.
“I’m sixteen, seventeen next month, but I know I’m smaller and look younger than I am. I’m here because I was caught hacking government agencies and trying to delete and alter files,” she said.
“I have a friend who you’d like, then,” I said, smiling and thinking of Faus. “Why were you doing that?”
“I was trying to help my family. We’re poor, really poor, and I figured if I could maybe change the bank’s information and give them more money, it w
ould help. I also tried altering their records to wipe away small crimes so they could get jobs easier. I know it was stupid, but the system wasn’t exactly working for us,” she said.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was weird, thinking about this girl, and the fact that she could’ve been brought through the precinct. She wasn’t doing anything malicious, even if it was illegal. She was just trying to keep her family alive. We were told to try to look the other way with heavily impoverished people like her, that it was their fault they were poor. We were told they were lazy, drunks, and the only reason they were in our world was because they were of magical blood.
It wasn’t true, though, and I always knew it. They were real people, just like us, and maybe we were cops and they weren’t because we had better opportunities. Hell, I only got this job because the resistance snuck me in. I wouldn’t have gotten it on my own, especially with my background.
“I hope they do better, and that they’re okay,” I said.
“They’ll be punished, I know it. I really messed up. I wish I could just get out of here and help them somehow,” she said, picking apart her bread.
“You never know what could happen,” I said, taking my first bitter taste of the gruel. I winced, chewing quickly, before swallowing and getting it down.
“That gets easier as time goes on, too,” she said, smiling.
“Looks like we got ourselves a little piggy,” I heard from behind, as I felt hot, humid breath coming down the back of my neck.
I turned around, seeing a large man, maybe of ogre or giant descent, in a black jumpsuit with his arms crossed. He had two men with him, one lanky and pimply, the other short and fat