by Mason, V. F.
Otherwise, I won’t survive in this hell, and I desperately need to, because I have a reason to live.
“Right. The cold-hearted bitch who deserves to die, according to… well… everyone,” the older woman says, a smile curving her lips, and she gets up easily, to my surprise, walking to me and trapping my chin between her fingers. They dig painfully into my jaw, but I show no outward reaction.
You don’t show your weakness to enemies or they’ll find new ones.
She flicks the knife open—how is she even allowed to have such things here—and presses the tip to my cheek, gently sliding it back and forth, nipping my skin yet not drawing blood. “You’re too pretty. Should we leave a scar to welcome you aboard?”
The breath hitches in my lungs. I tense inwardly expecting some kind of blow, frantically thinking how to protect myself, but blink in confusion when she laughs, stepping back from me.
“Is this what you expected, child?” she asks, walking back to her bed and dropping onto it then picking her book back up and putting on her reading glasses. “Everyone in this cell minds their own business, and no one is a saint. That being said, there is a bounty on your head. You keep your eyes open, Phoenix, or nothing but ashes will be left of you.”
With that, everyone goes back to their things, giving me zero attention, and I go to the empty bed in the left corner, sitting carefully while rubbing my stomach gently without anyone noticing.
Although, this secret will be out sooner rather than later, but until then, I don’t want anyone to know about it. Being vulnerable in this place is not an option, and even if my inmates act normal…
There is a bounty on my head, and I don’t have to wonder who set the high price.
That’s why I need Sebastian to read my letter, in which I beg him to meet me, to listen to me one last time, so he can help me in this. The man I know wouldn’t turn his back on this one.
He might hate me, but he won’t hate what we created.
All my messages so far have been unanswered though, but I hope he will read the one given to him by my lawyer.
Then I can forever die in this place in endless agony as long as he makes sure the dearest thing to my heart is safe from any harm.
But until then?
I will keep my eyes wide open, just like the older lady suggested.
* * *
The loud ringing ricocheting through the cell snaps me awake and sends goose bumps across my skin. Instantly, a headache washes over me, reminding me of my lack of sleep earlier, and I wince a little with a low groan of distress.
I hear loud shouts from the hallway along with banging. “Everyone, get up. Breakfast in five minutes.” The lock is turned, and the doors open while the women inside the cell get up.
Haley twists her neck from side to side, sending cracking sounds echoing in the space. “That fucking new guard is so loud I’m surprised she still has a voice.”
The blonde woman chuckles at this, and I notice her stare on me, lifting her chin in my direction. “Name is Sara.” And she points at the older lady still snoring. “That’s Kathy. I’m not as nice as her.” I almost bark a hysterical laugh at this, because wasn’t the so-called nice woman holding a knife to my face last night? “So, if you bring any shit on us, I’m gonna cut your throat.” She does the cutting motion on her neck. “And poof, you’ll be gone.”
“You’d have to get to my artery for that,” I say, swinging my feet to the floor and notice how swollen my legs are. I didn’t get enough fluids in me last night, and now I’m paying the price for it. Wiggling my toes back and forth, it takes me a second to realize both of them are drilling their stares at me, so I elaborate. “If you want someone to quickly die, you have to go for the artery. The bleeding will be so severe it’s impossible for them to survive.” At least, I haven’t met anyone who lived through it so far in my life.
And probably won’t, because my medical career is over. There is no light at the end of the tunnel for me about this one. When this imprisonment ends, no one will give me a job.
A dream I busted my ass for disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Sara rubs her chin and asks, “So did you kill someone in the past as well and just got caught recently for another crime?”
“I’m a doctor.” I correct myself inwardly and groan at my stupidity for wording it like that. The last thing I need is adding another death to my reputation.
But then again, maybe in a place like this, such a reputation might be the thing that can save me. Or give me immunity status to some of the inmates. Who wants to threaten a killer, right?
However, I prefer to keep the fact that I majored in psychiatry to myself. Under normal circumstances, people might be uncomfortable in my company, thinking I study their every move.
Besides, I still know how to patch someone up, because I received the same medical training as everyone else in my first eight years of study, so how hard will it be to pretend?
Both of them blink and then shrug, banging on the door and motioning with their heads toward it. Haley says, “Let’s eat. Kathy—” She addresses the woman, shaking her shoulder a little until finally her eyes open. “—breakfast is ready.”
Kathy rolls to the side and flicks her hand away, silently indicating she’s not interested, I think.
The women share a look and then drag their feet toward the door, and I quickly follow, placing my hand on my stomach when its loud rumbling fills the cell.
I haven’t eaten anything since last night, and in my condition, it’s a big no-no, but then the courtrooms didn’t provide much food, and I managed to buy myself a sandwich before the judge froze all my accounts, collecting money from them to pay my fine.
Combined with how Sebastian left me without a cent, once I’m out of jail, I’ll have no reputation, no past, nothing.
Even the future as a free woman seems depressing to me, and how tragic is that?
As we go out into the hallway, I see other inmates coming out of their cells, all of us wearing the disgusting orange uniform, but strangely everyone is super calm. Some of them even smile to one another and laugh, while others swing their arms back and forth as if stretching while walking.
I shrink inwardly at the gloomy atmosphere. The gray and black walls hang above me like doom ready to strike me at any moment, while the different smells that float around in the air remind me of the foster home where food was always rotten, but no one gave a shit.
They knew we’d have to eat it anyway if we wanted to live, and you could never argue with a power like that.
The clacking noise of the plates and plastic forks and spoons rings in the air, accompanied by the loud hum of voices, as we enter the kitchen area.
Everyone lines up by the buffet where two women wearing white aprons and hats place the food on everyone’s trays with completely bored expressions on their faces.
Sara and Haley grab one, and I follow suit, doing my best not to wince when I see one of the cooks wiping away the sweat from her forehead before checking the chicken and dumplings with her ungloved fingers. The other one wipes her nose with an apron before mashing the potatoes one more time.
Clearly, sanitation has left the building here, and I should learn to deal with it all, my previous luxurious habits forgotten.
Still, I won’t be touching the chicken.
Turning away to avoid my further inspection of the cooks and their handling of the food, my gaze clashes with one of the women sitting by a table in the right corner.
She has black hair and eyes with pale skin that highlights several scars along with tattoos. She is so painfully skinny the uniform is extra baggy on her, but she digs her fork into the food while scanning me from head to toe as if assessing the enemy.
Or her next victim—depends on how one might look at it.
Several women at her table, a bit more muscular than her, follow her gaze and focus their stare on me too while they bite harshly into their food before whispering something to the dark-haired woma
n.
She dismisses whatever is said with the wave of her hand and tears her gaze away from me, but not before an unreadable emotion crosses her face.
Does she have a problem with all newcomers or just me?
But then again, who knows about the rules in this place anyway? I’ve heard hideous stories of what can be done to someone in prison. However, I prefer to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and maybe life here won’t be the constant need to survive among the wild beasts who can’t wait to savor your flesh.
“You better not challenge Lori,” Sara says right into my ear, and I flinch, rattling the tray a little while shifting my focus to her in front of me. “She is a mean motherfucker. Not to mention, she holds authority even among guards.” She leans closer, whispering the last words. “She’ll kill you and make it seem like an accident.”
Haley slaps Sara on the back, making her half turn to her, and grits through her teeth, “Stop gossiping, girl, before you get us all in trouble.” Then she glances at me, a warning shining brightly in her eyes. “And you stop staring at people. No one likes that. Mind your own business if you want to keep your pretty face intact.” With this, she puts her tray on the table as we reach the buffet and accepts everything the woman gives her. She even rubs her hands together giddily when she sees the potatoes, which must be her favorite. Sara also doesn’t refuse any food.
They are fed every day, right? Judging by how eager they are, I start to wonder if they were starved or something. This won’t go well in my current condition.
Once it’s my turn, the lady dips the ladle inside the soup and hastily pours it into the dish, spilling a little on the corner, and practically slams it on my tray so hard I barely keep it up. “Thank you,” I say.
But she only huffs, shouting, “Next.”
I move to the bread section and pick up a slice before the second lady places chicken and potatoes on another plate and gives it to me. Then it’s the drink selection, if choosing between water and orange juice can be called that, and taking my water, I trail after the girls only to stop abruptly when Sara looks over her shoulder.
She stares at me and hisses, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Clearing my throat, I point with my chin at the table they were going to, since it’s the only empty one in the entire dining room. “Following you to the table to have breakfast.”
They share a look once again and then burst out laughing. My brows furrow at this while uneasiness rushes through me. What’s so funny about what I said?
Finally, Sara gasps for breath and clicks her finger in the direction of the small table by the garbage bin near the kitchen’s backdoor, which means that all the smells probably float around there, not to mention how dirty the floor is, based on several stains. Then she informs me, “You’re a newbie with no fucking class here or friends, darling. That’s your place. Just because Kathy didn’t give enough shits to show you who the boss is doesn’t mean you are one of us.”
Several women glance in our direction, excitement creeping into their eyes, probably in anticipation of a fight… in case I refuse to listen. They must lack entertainment here, so why not enjoy the cat fight, right?
Except, I haven’t participated in those since foster care, where one of the girls destroyed my science project on purpose and I lost the hundred-dollar prize.
“Okay,” I reply, marching toward the table and ungracefully dropping onto the seat.
I exhale heavily, reining in the urge to touch my back and bring attention to my condition that I’ve kept a secret for these several months. Instead, I lightly pat my stomach, ready to give it some sustenance.
Maybe I’ll even have the chicken that almost floats in grease despite my earlier reservations. I won’t survive and get good nutrition eating only carbs. I dip my spoon in my soup, bring it to my mouth, and I’m ready to try it despite the disgusting smell when a shadow falls over me.
I look up to see a blonde woman smiling brightly at me, her white teeth flashing so much I wonder how I’m not blinded by it. She sits opposite me, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. “Hi!” she says with her sugary sweet voice that should ease the tension inside me but oddly only enhances it. The makeup on her face is flawless with the eyeliner lines so symmetrical one might get jealous of such skills, and her perfectly trimmed eyebrow rises. “You’re new here!”
Mustering a smile, I extend my hand to her even if everything inside me screams not to do that, but I ignore my gut. It hasn’t been good to me lately anyway, because didn’t it tell me to trust justice and the law to prove I’m innocent?
Boy, did the world prove me wrong.
Without waiting for me to answer that assessment, she leans closer. “My name is Veronica. I’m… let’s say a person who keeps all this—” She twirls her finger in the air. “—together. I assign jobs and stuff like that based on everyone’s skills.” Internally frowning at this, since it seems odd, all things considered, I finally take a spoonful of soup and almost choke on the rotten tomato taste in my mouth, with so much salt and pepper it’s a wonder it doesn’t burn my throat.
Working past my gag reflex, I swallow it and quickly wash it away with water while Veronica sighs heavily, nodding at me. “Yep, girl. Food here is awful. That’s why you should help me and be our go-to medical person. You’ll earn a lot of favors from the inmates and get some treats.”
I blink at this, not knowing what to say to that, because all of it is so… unusual.
Is this how life in a prison works? In order to survive, you have to work for someone, and they might give you something in exchange? Was it the class thing Sara and Haley spoke about?
“Well—” I start, only to get interrupted when I hear someone choking violently in the distance, and instantly my attention is on the woman by the doors, wrapping her hands around her throat while she struggles to breathe.
Before even thinking about it, I rush toward her with Veronica on my heels, our shoes thumping loudly on the floor, and I reach the woman in record time.
I try to circle my hands around her chest to help her spit whatever is blocking her breathing, but she shakes her head, stumbling farther into the empty hallway, but I follow her anyway, addressing Veronica who is standing next to me. “Please help me with her. She might die from lack of oxygen.” Despite being out of it for almost six months, my natural medical instincts kick in, and I start to count in my head the seconds to make sure we can help her in time.
I move to her again, but she stumbles farther away from me, which makes zero sense. If she is barely holding it together, why is she running away from me?
In all my years of practice, no one ever refused help, instead begging for someone to do something, standing still or shaking so hard I could physically feel their panic.
Does she have some aversion to doctors or what?
I grab her by the sleeve, ready to drag her to me, when she stops choking and instead wraps her hand around mine, pulling me inside a room I haven’t noticed before.
With a loud yelp, I fly into the room and hit my back painfully on one of the walls while the unknown woman enters along with Veronica and two more women I haven’t seen before. “What is this?” I whisper, and Veronica smirks, taking something out of her pocket, and I gasp when I realize it’s a knife.
Everyone else gets out their own weapons, two more knives and a heavy chain along with brass knuckles. How do they even have all these things if all sharp objects are confiscated by the guards before you even enter the prison?
But then again, why does anything shock me at this point, really?
Veronica steps in front, cocking her head to the side as her gaze runs over me before she smirks. “I usually don’t do shit like this on someone’s first day. Too much attention on you as it is.” She flicks her hair back as her eyes framed with the longest eyelashes flutter at me. “But such a high price was paid for you, so… I couldn’t resist.”
A high price?
Who wou
ld pay for this…?
A scream tears from my throat when a kick comes to my spine, and only then do I realize one of the women stands behind me. I fall on my knees, holding onto my stomach while fear sinks into every bone in my body. Raising my head to Veronica who looms above me, flipping the knife between her fingers, I beg her with a trembling tone, “Please, don’t do this. I’m—” Whatever I want to say transforms into a groan of pain when she fists my hair, pulling at it so harshly that it seems she is ripping it away from my scalp, while the other two women grab my arms, making it impossible for me to move.
Veronica leans closer, her breath fanning my cheek as she presses the tip of her knife to my chin, digging it in a little. Enough to cause a sting, but not enough to bring any permanent damage. “He paid five million for it.” Her eyes flash in excitement, and she licks her lips, sliding her knife a little to the side, and this time I wince, because the dig is sharper, meeting my jawbone. “Who would hate you so much to pay for this kind of shit? I couldn’t refuse. It will set me up for life once I’m out of here. All of us.”
She winks at her friends as they all mutter, “Hell yeah.”
“Please don’t do this,” I repeat again, even though I know it’s useless.
The way some people think, act, react… so different from us, yet everything they do makes some sense to me, almost making them seem like they’re from another planet.
And all this knowledge acquired in college allows me to understand Veronica will never listen to me, as the money she received for it is too tempting for her.
Greed.
A powerful force in this world that rich people, like Zachary King, use to lure people to do despicable deeds.
“He said he doesn’t care what we do as long as you suffer.” She chuckles, the sound sending chills down my spine for how sinister it is. “As long as we don’t kill you, of course.” She grips my chin hard, her nails scratching my skin, and she forcibly twists my head from side to side, examining it while I pull at my hands, but it is no use. “I think we should start with your face. You are too beautiful for this place. Isn’t she, girls?” Everyone nods, and only then it dawns on me I haven’t tried screaming for help.