Dean Ambrose watched as the bus pulled up to the prison, guarded by fences, wrapped with caged wire, trapped in there like wild animals.
A sense of deja vu went past him, 3 years ago. 3 years ago, he had a similar feeling to to what he was having now. However, back then it seemed unrealistic, somewhat of a mockery of the real thing, like a trailer to a movie.
3 years ago, his mother and his step father had enrolled him in this program for troubled teenagers, rebels. The program introduced them to inmates by taking them to a real prison to show them how they could end up if they keep doing what they're doing.
His parents claimed that Dean was disrespectful to his mother, got into fights everyday, smoked marijuana, snuck out and went to parties.
Some of that was true and some of it was false. Dean wasn't disrespectful at all, as a matter of fact, he tried to avoid his "parents" most of the time. And he didn't get into fights everyday, people just thought they could pick on him. He did smoke and he did go to parties.
But those two things were his only outlet from the real world. The only things that distracted him from reality. The reality of his best friend, Sami Callihan, dying in a car crash. The reality of getting beaten by his step father nearly every day. The reality of getting brutally sexually assaulted in an alleyway when he was 16 years old.
That's why he needed those things. That's why those were his only cure. To try to smoke and drink until you numb the agony.
3 years ago:
Dean watched warily with a blank expression as one inmate was going one by one, yelling and mocking each teenager. The man was possibly in his late twenties, large build, tattooes.
"And look at you, boy. What's your problem?" The tattooed inmate approached Dean, knocking the teens out of his thoughts.
"I don't have a problem." The teen gave him a sarcastic smile, pissing people off never failed to amuse him despite the amount of times it has gotten him into trouble.
"Oh really smart ass, cause I've heard you sneak out huh?"
Dean nodded in agreement, a look of disinterest on his face. "Seems about right."
"How old are you?"
The teen shrugged his shoulders. "Sixteen"
"Do you know what a guy like me would do if I caught a boy like you on the streets?" The inmate held his hands together in front of his crotch, staring Dean down.
Dean didn't reply. His breathing quickened and he furrowed his brows at the inmate. He knows, he fucking knows more than anyone what type of person this guy is. He's dealt with that type of people more than he can count.
"Do you know what a motherfucker like me would do to you?!" He kneeled down to eye level with the teenager. "You start going out there to them streets, there ain't no age limit. Do you understand what people out there do?!" He screamed. "They look for little dumb bitches like you that wanna get drunk. You'll end up with your panties around your neck wondering why your ass hurts!"
Dean tightened his fists. He wasn't taking any shit from this guy. He tried to remain calm for the sake of not getting the shit beat out of him. This guy didn't know him. He doesn't know what Dean has gone through, he doesn't know who he is. Dean got up, looking up at the man.
"You need to sit your hot ass down right now." The man growled, shoving Dean a bit.
"Don't fucking touch me. Don't you fucking touch me." Dean gritted, ignoring the guards and everyone yelling a him for getting in the mans face.
The tattooed man chuckled. "You're a tough one huh?" The inmate shoved Dean again, this time harder.
Dean stumbled back a bit, then bit his bottom lip hard before shoving the inmate with all of his strength.
The raven haired man was fuming with anger. He went to attack Dean but before the situation was about to spiral out of control, the two were separated by the guards. Dean kicked his legs and screamed, he didn't care, he wasn't afraid of this guy.
"Motherfucker!" The inmate screamed. "Watch! You're gonna end up a whore! A whore is all you'll fucking be!"
"You don't know me! Don't you fucking talk to me like you know me!" Dean screamed, as the guards pushed him against a wall.
"Take Reigns to his cell!" Guards screamed, as they were attempting to make order between the two.
*End of Flashback*
But now it was the real thing, the action packed thriller. He looked around at his home for the next two years. It would probably be more than a home than his actual home would ever be.
"Get out newbies." Guards were around the bus.
Dean got up, his hands chained together. Afraid? Not really. Anxious? Too much. He walked out.
A guard shoved him. "Hurry the fuck up!"
Dean turned around. The guy was relatively larger than him but Dean would never let anyone touch him like that, "Don't fucking touch me." He spat.
"Oh a mouthy one eh? You betcha ya arse I'm gonna have fun watching the inmates rip you apart." The ginger-haired guard laughed.
Dean shook his head and continued walking. Perhaps he could have another chance to beat the shit out of this guard if he lays his hands on Dean again.
Dean continued walking, they got inside. Dean looked into the cells.
He saw a bearded man with a lamp and a rocking chair in one cell talking to himself. In the next cell, he saw a man with two toned hair, blonde and black, practicing his kicks. The next cell was two men twirking and dancing. The next cell was of a tall man, with a buzz cut and tattoos all over his arms. Then there was the next cell, empty.
"Here's your stop, fresh meat." The guard opened up the cell and lead Dean in there. "Good luck, you're gonna need it." He closed the cell.
Dean looked at his cell. There was two beds. He was hoping he didn't have a cell mate because he didn't want to have to deal with that.
Minutes later...
"Blondey! Yer cell mate is here!" The guard from earlier was standing in front of the cell with a man next to him.
"This is Reigns." The guard unlocked the cell and nudged the raven haired man into the cell.
"Did I really fucking need a cellmate, Sheamus?!" Reigns screamed, banging his fists against the the bars.
Deans heart rate sped up. He's heard that voice before. And that face looked awfully familiar.
The guard, Sheamus, smirked. "C'mon Reigns, you'll have fun with em. He a fresh one." Sheamus chuckled and Dean growled. "And either way, you don't have a choice, so make the best out of it eh?" The guard said before trailing off.
Reigns turned his attention to Dean. "Look first off, you're on my bed so get the fuck up. Second of all, don't talk to me, don't touch me, and don't look at me. Third of all, if I see you near anything that belongs to me, I will end you." The tattooed man stated in one breathe, as if these words were rehearsed and memorized.
Dean shook his head. The only people he meets are assholes. He shouldn't be surprised that this guy was being a dick to him.
"Are you fucking deaf? I told you to get the fuck up" The larger of the two yanked Dean up by his shirt.
Dean shoved him away. He clenched his fists. "Don't touch me, don't fucking touch me." He gritted.
Reigns paused. Those words, that voice, that face was slowly bringing back memories. The tattooed mans face filled with confusion.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The dirty blonde paused. "...Dean Ambrose..."
The inmate still looked utterly confused. "How old are you?"
"19" He stated. He didn't know why he was telling this guy anything. Perhaps it was the fact that he gets asked those questions so much. It was instinctive to answer them. "What do you fucking want?" Dean snapped.
"You're so young." He whispered under his breath. "I know you but I don't know where."
"You don't know me. You've seen me, you've spoken to me but you don't know me." Dean corrected, shaking his head in an attempt get that out of his head, to get that time and age out of his head.
"What?" Reigns pondered for a moment, taking a look at Dean from head to toe. His eyes widened, this was that punk kid from that program a couple of years ago. They had asked him and a group of inmates to scream at and terrify troubled teenagers in an attempt to show them what their actions can get them. Roman didn't really mind doing it, they said it would help his record and they would think about shortening his sentence. So he did it. The aim of the program was to get those teenagers to avoid prison. However with Dean, this was obviously not the case.
"You're that kid."
Dean chuckled coldly. "Yeah, that kid." He mimicked. "It's nice to be remembered as something other than 'whore'."
The tattooed mans face flushed with guilt. "I uh, I'm sorry."
"Yeah okay." Dean rolled his eyes. "Look I don't want any problems okay? So just don't talk to me and I wont talk to you. I won't touch your shit either." Dean stated. He didn't want any problems, he never did. He remembers every word of what Reigns had said when he went to that program. Dean wasn't afraid, he was just sick and tired of everything.
"Fine."
]
The guards had called everyone to form one straight line.
"Dean Ambrose. Step out. Get yer arse over here."
Dean stepped out the line and approached Sheamus.
"I'm going to need you to hand that over." Sheamus pointed to a small picture in Deans front pocket.
Dean took it out and shook his head. It was a picture of him and his best friend, Sami, together. It was a month before Sami had died. The only person who he loved that actually loved him back.
"Give it" Sheamus stuck his hand out.
"No it's mine."
"Ambrose. Hand it over. Now." Sheamus demanded, then tried to grab it out of Deans hand.
Dean yanked it back and shoved Sheamus. "Don't touch me ever again. I will fucking break your arm." The dirty blonde threatened. Dean didn't care if he was a guard. No one takes away the only thing Dean has left. No one.
Sheamus grabbed Deans arm and pulled him close. "You threatening me, little boy?"
Dean threw a punch and that's when five other guards tackled Dean to the ground. The teenager felt suffocated, he struggled as the guards grabbed at his arms and legs. But he still held onto the photo of Sami in his hands.
"No! No!" Dean writhed in their hold.
The guards had Dean at their mercy now. Sheamus took out his baton and began driving it to Deans midsection, over and over again.
Dean screamed, kicking his legs and flailing his arms.
One of the guards got behind Dean, wrapping their arms around his neck.
Deans eyes widened. His oxygen was being cut off. He attempted to pry the hands off his neck but he couldn't.
The inmates who had been watching this were shocked.
"Let him go man!"
"That's not right!"
"He's just a kid, stop!"
The inmates were screaming out their refusal to this but they knew they weren't going to be able to do anything about it. If they tried to interfere, it would happen to them instead. And in prison, you can't trust anyone. It was every man for himself.
After a few minutes, the struggling stopped and Deans body went limp. The guards let him go when they were 100% sure he was passed out.
Sheamus shook his head angrily. "I want each and every one of you to listen." Sheamus gestured to the line of inmates. "I want this to be a lesson of what could happen to any of you if you disrespect us." He stated and look at Dean on the ground. "This new little twink thought he could motherfucking lay his hands on me" Sheamus clenched his fists and landed a swift kick to Deans back.
Dean came out of his momentary unconsciousness with a cry of pain.
"Enough!"
"He's already down!"
The inmates yelled.
Sheamus ignored them and landed about 10 more kicks and stomps to Deans upper and lower back. And his ribs as well.
Dean curled up into himself, in pain but still holding onto his only possession.
Sheamus kneeled down. "Gimme that." He growled, trying to yank it out of Deans hand but Dean was too stubborn, holding onto it for dear life.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sheamus stepped on Deans head. And still he tried to yank it out. After a while of prying it, he eventually got Dean to let go. Tearing a piece of the photo. Dean gasped quietly and shook his head, holding in tears and looking at Sheamus angrily.
"Everyone go to the showers now." Everyone stood still for a moment, hesitating to move. "Now!" He screamed.
]
Roman was one of the last people in the showers. The guards wouldn't tell him anything though. He was well respected. An inmate for almost 5 years after being charged with first degree robberies. Roman wasn't a bad person, he himself knew that. He needed the money to take care of his daughter. And he's not ashamed of himself because of that. He's ashamed of having to leave his daughter.
"Get in there! You have 3 minutes!"
Roman watched as AJ Styles, one of the guards, shoved Dean into the shower areas.
Dean walked in with his fists clenched, he looked as if he was about to murder someone.
Poor kid, Roman thought. He would've attempted to help him, but he knew he would make it worse. Roman can't say he didn't tell Dean what would've happened. 3 years ago, he told the teenager where he would end up and Roman was correct.
Dean took off his clothes slowly.
Roman noticed his trembling hands. Roman tried not to look, he felt as if he was looking at a child. But it was hard to look away, the first glance of Deans body was something he wished he could unsee.
Above that gorgeous body that Roman knew was there, cuts, bruises, scratches, finger prints, scars littered Deans body from top to bottom.
Bruises in the forms of fists on his stomach. Scratches running down his back. Finger prints on his thighs. Cuts all over his arms, but those were most likely self harm. It was scary, so scary to Roman and he's seen things no one has ever seen but this was something else.
Dean noticed Roman staring.
"Look I don't want any problems, okay. I just wanna shower and leave." Dean stated, not making eye contact, staring straight at the wall. He learned that over the years, eye contact was what got you into trouble. To some people, making eye contact meant 'he wants it' or 'he's asking for it'. So Dean avoided it whenever possible.
Roman looked shocked. Did Dean think that Roman would do something to him? In the showers? Perhaps, Roman has given him that idea. They haven't really started off on a good note. Roman remained silent and finished off his shower.
]
Roman stared at Dean examining his features. Dirty blonde, pale skin, baby blue eyes, tall, skinny. He wasn't pretty. No. He was more than that. Perhaps there was true beauty below all the bruises.
"Okay man, you've been staring at me for the past 20 minutes. What? What's wrong?" Dean snapped.
"N-Nothing...I'm sorry." Roman stuttered, clearly embarrassed. "Look, can we start over?" Roman asked.
Dean stared at him for what seemed like forever before he shrugged his shoulders then nodded slowly. He didn't know where this was going but he may as well. An acquaintance in prison can't be that bad, but he knows he can't trust anyone.
Roman ran his hand through his hair. "I'm Roman Reigns"
Dean nodded his head. "Yeah I remember."
Roman smiled softly. "You got a good memory it seems"
"Yeah, I pretty much remember everything." Dean played around with his fingers. "...Even things I don't really want to remember."
Roman frowned. They remained silent for a bit until, surprisingly, Dean broke the silence.
"How old are you?"
"30"
"Oh wow. How long have you been in here for?"
"5 years. 3 armed robberies." Roman stated. "What're you in here for?"
Dean ran his hands through his hair. "...was just at the wrong place at the wrong time." He admitted. "2 years in here."
2 years in prison. Let's see if he lasts a week at least without killing another human being or even himself.