The prisoner looked up as he heard the iron door creak open, his sunken, half covered eyes shadowed under his battered woollen hat.

It was a guard, under his spick and span hat pierced out ice cold blue eyes that seemed to jab at the prisoner's own brown ones. With equally piercing words, he spoke,

"Get up,"

The prisoner turned away. Give a guy a blue uniform and suddenly he believes he's king of the jail, he thought.

King of the stuck-up jerks more like.

"I said GET UP!" The guard yelled.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," The prisoner stood up, his one-size-does-NOT-fit-all orange jumper sagged as he moved. It wasn't that he was being starved, the food was bland but (barely) enough to stop hunger. But he was just skinny and small by nature. Even his mom said she thought she had given birth to a scarecrow when she first saw him.

So it was easy for the guard, whose muscles bulged under the uniform, to haul him out of his cell, then hand-cuff him before marching him down the corridor.

The prisoner looked around and wished there would be at least some other colours around, more variety, colours other than orange, blue and grey.

But then, it really wouldn't have been a prison if it had.

"So… where are we going?" he asked dejectedly.

The prisoner didn't really want to start a conversation with this guy, but he was curious.

"The head," said the guard curtly, "where else?"

The prisoner jolted up to look at the guard's sneering face, "What for?"

He hadn't done anything wrong, he was sure of that; actually, the chief said if he kept up his good behaviour maybe he could get out early.

The guard had a smug smirk on his face, "Some guy's here to see you,"

The prisoner gulped, who could that visitor be? His parents again? (But the guard just said one guy,) He hadn't seen his friends since the band had broken up and…well; you wouldn't really call her a guy would you?

Don't tell me Mr Gruch's went all the way here to give me a lecture! I mean come on! It's like he just loves seeing me behind bars!

His hat, the only thing he was allowed to keep after they arrested him, was damp with sweat by the time they reached the office. The guard took out a key and glanced suspiciously at him, as if he would try to escape the moment the guard stopped looking.

Talk about paranoid, the prisoner crossed his arms and glared at the guard, someone needs to watch less crime flicks,

Then the door was open and the guard stepped back, with a yank, he pulled the prisoner into the next room.

"Whoa!" the prisoner stumbled forward into the next room, almost falling on his face. He glared back, but the guard had already shut the door.

The now alone prisoner looked around, the room was bare, with only two doors. One leading to the prison, which was the one he just came out from, and another door to freedom

There was also a table, a lamp and two chairs. They challenged each other, so that the interrogator would be able to talk to any suspect face to face in the lamplight. The prisoner sat down on the closest chair and waited.

It took a few seconds of waiting before the door facing him opened.