The Kirkland Institute of Sex Offenses. Already the name doesn't sound too cheery. However, that is the place that Gilbert had spent two years of his sentence. The place was started up by some British-American criminal psychologist, Arthur Kirkland, in order to rehabilitate people convicted of sex offenses. Every day, Gilbert would see the British guy during group therapy or even during lunch to observe his little pet projects. The guy isn't too hard to miss either. Just look for the guy with the fuzzy eyebrows and that's the ring leader to the freak show.

The place divided its inmates depending upon their offenses by having them wear a particular colored shirt. Most people including Gilbert, when he first was brought here, was shocked that a sex offender is classified depending on risk, but the concept is apparently nothing new to the system from what Gilbert had heard. The main purpose of it is to divide people based upon their offenses and "room up" people with similar offenses or colors as they would say.

The blue shirts are a required uniform for the least harmful individuals in this entire joint. They are required for people who had been convicted of possession of child pornography (or another similar computer crime) or people who had been convicted of statutory rape. It's really sad for Gilbert to see a guy in there, because they got caught having consensual sex with their 16 year old lover. He felt that type of individual shouldn't be here in the first place.

Pink shirts were for people who were convicted of sex offenses against children. The reason why they were separated into their own little group was because someone in a black or a red shirt might not think twice about getting into a physical fight or even raping someone who is a known pedophile.

Gilbert hesitantly glanced down at the red shirt that he was forced to wear as if the red shirt was going to jump up and strangle him at any moment. Red shirts were for people that that were convicted of sexual assault. The shirts were for the kind of people who didn't take "no" for an answer and forced someone (or a couple of other people) to have sex with them.

Gilbert then shuddered when he had thought about the people who wore black shirts. They were the kind of people that would make news headlines. They were the worst of the worst in here. They were the serial rapists or sexual sadists. Just being in the same room with them was enough to make the albino break out into cold sweat.

Gilbert glanced down at the cute stuffed animal that was in his hand. His brother had won it at a fair in Berlin when they were kids and had given it to him as a gift. Gilbert had named the Gilbird and always kept the stuffed bird with him. If the staff even knew what the certain significance of the bird was, they would've possibly had it taken away from him.

Prussia slowly got up from the cot and went to towards the steel door. Usually around this time, prisoners were allowed to roam within the corridors, the lunchroom, the weight room, the library, or one of the activity rooms. Being able to walk free at certain times of the day within the hallways was a privilege within the system. A privilege that could be taken away if an inmate breaks the rules or if a lockdown happens.

Gilbert just kept his head down and glanced side to side at the guards who kept watch over the area. One of the guards was an intimidating tall Swedish man who spoke little and referred to a Finnish guard as his "wife," much to the Finnish man's dismay. "Evening Beilschmidt." The guard uttered to the German.

"Evening sir." Gilbert uttered back and continued his walk towards the library. Instead of being given numbers, the staff referred to inmates by their surnames. Inmates even had their names printed on the back of their shirts to help identify them. According to Arthur Kirkland, this purpose of this was to treat inmates as individuals. Gilbert had met the man a few times before outside of group therapy. After he had checked out his book, he walked back to his room.

"Beilschmidt, please sit your arse down." A voice within the room commanded, surprising Gilbert. Gilbert looked towards the empty dorm area on the other side of the room. Each of the rooms comes with two dorm looking areas for inmates. The rooms would contain a cot, a dresser, and a desk and chair. The British man sat on the empty cot with his arms and legs crossed quite effeminately, much to Gilbert's amusement. The blond British man wore a forest green business suit, a white business shirt, and black leather oxford shoes. The presence of the owner of the institute was alone to demand attention from other inmates.

"I wasn't expecting you here," Gilbert sat down on the cot, leaning against the Prussian flag on his wall. I wonder what the bastard wants now. Gilbert grimaced and then asked, "May I ask why you're here?"

"A couple of reasons of reasons actually," The British man spoke irritably as he tried to maintain his composure. Gilbert noticed that Arthur was pissed about something, but didn't dare to ask what it was. Gilbert held in his breath in anticipation of what the British man was going to say. "First of all, how have you been coping with what happened?"

Gilbert exhaled slowly and glowered at the question, "I haven't talked to mein Bruder since before the trial that I was found guilty in. He wants nothing to do with me. I'm pretty much dead to him as far as he cares. I even heard from my cousin's wife that Ludwig had even threatened to cut my testicles off when I get released. Does that answer your question?"

Arthur nodded curtly, "yes, I suppose it does. You know, you should open up more in my group therapy sessions and in your one-on-one sessions with Elizabeta. Your anger towards the situation is quite noticeable and unhealthy." The German groaned loudly, which made Arthur furrow his eyebrows. "It would help you accept the changes that your offense brought to your victim and your loved ones and help you to deal with them."

"Fine," Gilbert groaned again, burying his face in his hands. There was an uneasy atmosphere between the two men after that. Gilbert didn't want to talk to Arthur any further and Arthur was trying to find ways to talk to Gilbert in a way that doesn't cause the German to go backwards with the progress he had made.

"Good," Arthur replied, getting to the next order of business, "you're also going to be getting a new roommate soon."

"Really?" Gilbert asked, trying to control his emotions from his outburst about being asked about his brother. Gilbert suspected that they've either received a new inmate or that an inmate was being transferred to his room. Whichever it was, Gilbert knew that the person he was going to be rooming with another "red shirt."

Arthur's smartphone had rang and Arthur quickly answered it, greeting the person on the line, Matthew. After a brief moment of listening to Matthew on the phone, Arthur promised the person to be present for his next hockey game. Arthur quickly excused himself and went out into the hallway.

Gilbert had lain down on his cot, gazing at the cell and cuddling Gilbird. His thoughts were on his brother and what his brother could be doing right now. He wondered what kind of job his own brother has now. He wondered if Ludwig was living in a nice house in the suburbs with a privacy fence and his three dogs. His gut twisted into knots, imagining if his brother had a lover or a spouse. The thought of his brother finding a nice girl to slow down with lead to the thought that Gilbert could be an uncle right now without even knowing it. Undoubtedly, his cousin Roderich and his wife would keep information like that hidden from him for some reason, unknown to the albino. His brother was 20 years old when Gilbert had been arrested and is now 23 years old. Gilbert was four years older than his own brother and had always protected Ludwig from harm up until that one night.

"Sorry about that," Arthur quickly shut the steel door and sat back down in his usual spot. "I usually keep my phone on just in case someone is having a problem with an inmate."

"Was that your son on the phone?" Gilbert had wondered.

"Yes, it was." Arthur answered. "I adopted him when he was a child. Anyway, I've got other things to attend to. I just wanted to tell you the news. Your roommate should be in during the evening time."

"Good to know." Gilbert replied, nonchalantly. "By the way, what's my new roommate's name?"

Arthur's scowl returned, "His name is Alfred F. Jones." Arthur spat the name out as if it was curse.

So, that's chapter one of this story. I had gotten the idea for this story after watching a documentary about a particular institute in California and I've also wanted to do a mentorship/romance between America and Prussia for a while. Hopefully you all enjoy the story so far

Mein Bruder – my brother