On a cold November walk, Tobias tried to pump himself up. With heavy breaths and an inner monologue, he justified his actions. Yelling in his mind, though somehow the voice of his thoughts never actually got louder, Toby pushed the blame for his lousy life and the life he was making for his daughter on anything he could come up with. It was all their fault, or its fault, not his. Never his. He was angry. He needed the anger to go through with the idiotic plan of his. Worry trickled in the corner of his mind, which flooded his thoughts as he neared the final block of his journey. Toby slowed, a little, trying to stamp down the fear that bubbled. He leaned against the brick of an alleyway, grabbing at his skull. He was terrified of what he was going to do, but it was either this or a child going hungry and that was an easy choice to make.
With one last sigh, Toby yanked the ski-mask over his face and charged into the Photo-mat. Much to his delight, only he and the teenager behind the counter were around. Toby raised the gun and the kid freaked out, and rightly so. He started blubbering and backing away, that was until he ran into the printers directly behind him. The boy's hands were thrown up in front of his face, like his palms could stop a speeding bullet. Dumb kid, Toby almost couldn't bring himself to say his lines. Almost.
"Open the drawer and give me all the cash. Now!" Toby roared. To himself, his voice seemed to crackle and waiver with fear . He hoped this boy took him seriously. He didn't want to hurt anybody here. He just needed the money to keep he and his daughter off the streets. Narrowing his eyes, Toby gestured to the register hurriedly. Panic is a powerful master and every minute he spent in that place panic thundered louder in his veins.
"Okay, Okay, sir, please...I am just a kid. You can take the money. Just please don't shoot. Please." The child whined as his fingers fumbled over the bills. He was stuffing them into a plastic sack when the door chimed. Toby spun around and saw a man dressed in black. Cop! He shot before he actually took a good look. What he assumed was a policeman armed and ready to take him down, was really a middle aged guy picking up his order before heading home after a long day of work. His suit soaked with blood so quickly. It was drenched in what seemed only seconds. The man dropped to his knees and then to the floor. The blood puddled on the tile, a crimson halo ever growing around him; he died before the first police lights flashed in the windows.
Toby practically ran home, the bag of money tucked into his jacket and the gun returned to his trousers. He'd tossed the mask into an alley and raked his fingers through his hair. What had he done, what had he done?! He had killed a man, that's what. An innocent man who probably had a family waiting at home, forever waiting. Not unlike himself, for that night was the last he would spend with his daughter in a long time.
The police came for him the very next day. His daughter locked tightly around his neck. Crying, shouting, the mean men were taking her daddy away.
Social services would place little Anna in the care of her aunt and uncle in California. Anna had never met them for she and Daddy lived far away in the heart of Chicago. Toby nudged his little girl's head with his own, for his hands were bound in chains and shackles, and promised her that his sister would take good care of her while he was away. Anna nodded sullenly with tear tracks dried on her cherub face. This was the day Daddy was sentenced to Fox River Penitentiary for the next ten to fifteen years.
The bus reeked of sweat and body odor. It was as if going to prison meant you had to neglect all things respectable in the outside world, like hygiene. Toby couldn't look at anyone on the bus; as if, allowing the others to exist would mean that all of this was really happening to him. That he was going away...that he would not see his daughter until she was nearly, if not, a complete adult. That was the part that hurt the most. His little girl would probably forget him in that time. Not in the sense that she wouldn't know that he existed, but that she would not remember the timber of his voice, the way he hugged her like she was the anchor keeping him safely in the harbor. She wouldn't remember how he smiled or the stupid jokes he would tell her just to see her own grin, or hear her giggle. He doubted she would even want to see him when he finally did get out. All she would know of him was that he was a criminal, a murderer.
Toby shook those thoughts from his head, choosing instead to count the electricity poles as they flew by. After a while he lost count but continued to watch them. They seemed almost hypnotic. Pole after pole, Chicago disappeared far behind them. They passed through small towns, long countryside. Just an endless line of wire and wooden beams. And then they were there, time gone in the blink of an eye and yet the longest ride of his life; the castle like features of the prison looming overhead, the guard towers, the razor wire. Tobias was not a religious man, but in that second, he made prayer he hoped would not fall on deaf ears.
"Alright Scum, off your asses and into a line. Step off the bus and wait for further instructions. I'm sure you've noticed your jewelry. You are cuffed to the man beside you for the rest of the walk inside, so don't think you're gonna get far if you make a break for it. That and I have permission to stop you at whatever force is necessary. Now, Move it!" The transportation guard ordered, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder so he could unlock the doors separating the convicts and the driver. It didn't take long to file the group off the bus. Toby stood in the middle of the pack in a three-legged walk to the gallows with some guy he'd never seen before that day. He smelled of cigarettes, similar to the kind his father smoked. Toby was shorter than average, coming in at around 5'7", but these men, the mountains that shuffled ahead and behind him in line, had to be almost six and a half feet tall. If prison didn't make Toby feel small and insecure enough, the ambiance procurred by the mammoths certainly helped. Toby had to distract himself form where his mind was leading him, dark tales imagined over endless hours of television and fueled by fear. He didn't need that. So instead, he glanced around him.
That decision proved to be a mistake. As they passed the fences surrounding the prison yard, and area designated for the convicts to get fresh air and exercise, prisoners leered suggestively and taunted the line of 'fish'. Toby didn't know where to look or how to act. His eyes connected with venomous amber toned eyes, ones that almost smoldered with lust. The man's tongue snaked out of his mouth to wet his lower lip and pull it between his teeth as he gave Toby the once over. A shiver shot down the young man's spine and he shuddered visibly, much to the amusement of his admirer. He tore his eyes away from the crowd and let them sink to his shoes. Distraction; yeah, that helped.
Once inside, Toby had to take off his clothes and place them in the basket on the bench. To him, it seemed like everyone else didn't feel put off by having to be naked in front of a bunch of violent men, including the vigilant guards. The were shockingly cavalier over the nude form of the inmates. Toby thought to himself, 'I just need to keep calm... with a clean nose I can get out on parole. If I make it to the parole hearing...' He had to stop himself there. There could not be an if. Toby was going to make it to that hearing and he was going to get out of here. He would see his daughter again, even if she didn't know him anymore. 'Just keep Anna close, she will pull me through.'
Toby finished folding his clothes neatly in the box. They were his only pair of khaki's and button down shirt. Toby couldn't afford a suit for his court date. He guessed that his appearance didn't help the jury to rule in his favor.
"Get a move on, convict." A guard appeared out of nowhere, disrupting Toby's thoughts, demanding that Toby take his sorry ass into the showers to be deloused and then to be checked for anything he might be smuggling in here. Toby couldn't believe people would actually try that. But beings they had the examination, there had to be a need for it.
The water in the shower was incredibly cold and it burst randomly, spraying a fine mist of the foul smelling liquid in Toby's face, like rotting eggs. The guards tossed delousing powder all over Toby and it burned his eyes. They began to water, but the shower hid that. Lucky for Toby because otherwise it would have appeared like crying. He rubbed his eyes trying his damnedest to remove that horrible powder from them. No such luck. He squinted hard, to see through his watery, itchy eyes as he was led behind the screens.
"Run your hands through your hair and shake it. Okay. Now open your mouth. Lift your tongue." The nurse wrote something down, probably checking off each thing they completed of the exam. "Right. Lift your balls... Turn around and spread your cheeks." Toby's face flushed with embarrassment as he did what he was asked. He flinched when he heard the glove snap against the examiner's hand. He scolded himself for not mentally preparing for this, but then again how could he have. It was not like he knew he was going to be molested on his way in. He'd thought another con would be the bearer of that bad news, not a prison employee.
He was then given two uniforms and bed linen, then sent back to his box where he dressed slowly. He felt so vulnerable after the examination, he was sure he was still blushing. He turned his stuff into the prison, watching his last articles of freedom get locked away. The man behind the counter shoved a clipboard into Toby's hands and gestured back towards the benches. He sat on the edge, his knee bouncing with anxiety as he filled out his information, medical issues, etc. It didn't take long to fill it all in. He didn't have much to say. Even back in childhood Toby had always been in good health besides minor anxiety issues. He'd had a panic attack or two in high school, but that was nothing to write home about.
Grabbing his stuff off the bench beside him he made his way into line, at the head of which was a mean looking correctional officer. His face pinched and eyes dead, void of emotion, like marbles, as he recited his orientation. Toby didn't want to talk to him but knew it was inevitable. The line quickly disappeared. Toby gulped as he stood in front of Officer Bellick, as the name tag read.
"Name and back number." He snarled without looking up.
"Um, Locke, Tobias. 96253." Toby stuttered, choosing to look at the papers he'd handed over, which now sat in Bellick's meaty hands.
"You a religious man, Locke?" Again he did not look up.
"No, no Sir." Toby was getting flustered with his inability to speak properly.
"Good 'cause the ten commandments don't mean a box of piss in here. We got two commandments and two only. The first commandment is you got nothing coming." Bellick wrote something down on the sheets in his fist, seemingly done with his sentence.
"And what about commandment number two, Sir?" Toby asked gingerly. Finally Bellick lifting his gaze and a slow smirk grew.
"See commandment number one." He sneered, looking Toby up and down, sizing him up. What Toby didn't know was that Bellick was a sadist that sold pretty, young fish to the prison predators. Toby just made that list. His short, lean stature and shaggy brown hair would catch the attention of every predator in the joint. Bellick stood to make some serious cash.
Finally, Toby and his bus mates were led into the cell blocks. The cons locked in the cells were very loud. Toilet paper flew through the air and again the leering and suggestive comments ensued. This time Toby knew better than to look about. Bellick took them to the middle of the room. This acted as a sort of show for any cons wanting to buy a boy, but the auction had just started. Bellick would place the pretty ones in with safe cons till the bidding was over. The Aryans took in most of the boys, they were insatiable and went through prags so quickly with their rough ways that were constantly in need of more. Bellick expected that they would be willing to pay quite a bit for the inmate 96253.
Toby shifted awkwardly in the line. It was harder not to look at the cons when he was just standing in the midst of them. His shoes were not that interesting and he realized that having his head hang like that would appear to be defeat, or fear. Both of which he was feeling, but neither could he actually let the others see. So he lifted his head and tilted it back and forth, pretending that he was stretching it rather that staring at his freshly issued prison boots.
He looked straight ahead, trying to let his vision go out of focus but with all the noise echoing around him he could not seem to faze out. Instead he saw all the eyes watching him and what he saw in those eyes made him want to run away, to hide in some hole. He put on his poker face, trying to wipe away all emotions. He hoped that it worked but he had only started. These men had been doing the poker face for much longer than he and were probably just as skilled at seeing through them.
One set of eyes caught onto Toby's for the second time. The man from the yard leaned into the bars of his cell. His arms draped casually through the metal and that tongue of his still tracing his thin lower lip. The weirdest thing was that he was one of the few not shouting at the new comers. He just sat there, staring. A sinking feeling formed in Toby's gullet that he couldn't seem to shake.
Bellick then separated the line into groups that headed to each of the three tiers on each side of the cell block. Toby was placed in a cell with an old man on the main floor. The guy didn't seem to notice Toby. He just kept reading his book and stroking the silky fur of his purring feline. With a sigh, Tobias turned away from the cell door, wishing that everyone in here ignored him as his cellmate did. He set his articles on the top bunk, beings that was the one the old man was not laying on.
Once he finished dressing the bed and placing his toothpaste and such near the sink, Toby slouched against the wall facing the older man. Again the man did not acknowledge him. He turned the page and released a tender sigh. The book he read was Huckleberry Finn. Filled with such tales of adventure, Toby could understand the man's quiet wish to be out in the fresh air enjoying freedom like Huck.
"That was one of my favorite books as a kid." Toby stated, dropping his eyes to the blanket hanging over the side of the bed.
"Hmm?" The man tore himself away from his mental freedom. "Ah, yes, it was mine as well." His lips twitched into almost a smile. Toby took this as a sign that conversation was now approved.
"I'm Tobias Locke." Toby stretched out his hand.
"Charles Westmoreland." He nodded and took a hold of Toby's hand as he set the book down on the bed, dog eared pages pressed to the blankets to hold his spot. "And this is Marilyn." He patted the cat's little head.
"She is adorable, but I didn't know we could have pets?"
"We can't. She is grandfathered in from a time when inmates were allowed a creature comfort or two. After she is gone, that's it. No more." He eyed his little friend softly, his palm resting on her side. She purred a little louder, just for him. Toby could tell that she meant the world to him. Marilyn was Charles' family in here.
"I hope that isn't for a long time." Charles nodded to Toby. Just then, a buzzer shocked Toby from his crouching pose.
Charles chuckled a bit, "It's time for dinner, Boy. Don't get yourself all worked up." Toby couldn't help but laugh at himself. He had been scared by the dinner bell. Then again, he was scared of everything in this place.