Chapter I

When you think of prison, nearly the first word that enters your mind is hell, and understandably so. Your freedom is ripped from your clutches whether you're guilty or not, you're forced to share a cell with someone who could very well try to slit your throat with a homemade shiv in your sleep, and you're fed 'food' that even Oliver Twist would have passed up the first time around, never mind seconds. And that's just a normal prison. I've been incarcerated in that kind-three different ones, in fact-and my stays weren't as bad as they could have possibly been. But the prison I'm currently on my way to, along with nearly forty other inmates, is the Allenville Penitentiary in good ole Texas.

Perhaps I should mention that I despise the heat. The prison I've only just said goodbye to is the New Hampshire State Prison, a stretch I was not so bitter about doing considering the geographical placement sat well with me. But my cellmate, who was so for all of five minutes, decided that they wanted the bottom bunk. Considering I had called that particular cell my home for God knows how long, I felt that newbie had absolutely no right to lay claim on it. It's a shame, more for myself than anyone else, that I was the only one that saw it this way. A broken nose, fractured jaw, and many breaks and cuts later had my ass set for transfer, stitches and all. And now here I was.

As I looked around the bus at the convicts around me, some chatting with others while a few spat out their threats, I realized that I officially hated the U.S. government. Who in their right mind would pass a coed prison? A maximum security coed prison of all things. Now, I'm not complaining, as I've found it gets me absolutely nowhere and on occasion makes things worse, but mixing genders in a felonious world really is not a smart move. Apparently some dick with government pull had seen it work wonders in a few juvenile facilities across the States and decided it would be a good idea to try it with murderers and rapists to introduce more luxuries, to imitate the outside world, and attempt to 'tame the prisoners'. Yeah, fucking brilliant idea. Putting us women into their prison-and they would make sure we knew it was theirs-would do nothing but add fuel to their already searing fire. If the correctional facility was having problems now, it was only a matter of time before they found out what true chaos was. If it wasn't so sad and infuriating at the same time, it would have been rather funny.

Some of the women being hauled to this place were so loud-mouthed they were bound to get their asses handed to them within days of arrival. Others were so docile they were guaranteed to be passed around like nothing more than a piece of meat. The situation quite literally is like throwing us into a lion-infested coliseum with no sword, no shield, and no chance. Personally, I had learned not to talk shit and not to inject myself into business that doesn't concern me, so I didn't really think I would have too many problems on the surface. These men haven't seen women in quite awhile, though, or at least that's what the guards at the front of the bus decided to say with a snicker when I first boarded. Assholes. All I could do was keep my mouth shut and frown at the thirty-seven stitches running down my arm from the last scuffle I had. And that was with a 119 pound woman. I could only imagine, although I didn't want to, what kind of shit I was going to be subjected to once I arrived.

And I was about to. Up ahead in the distance, I could see the prison looking nothing like the facilities I had previously been to. Physically, it reminded me of what Alcatraz might look like without all of those years of restoration, looking uninhabitable and rundown. Because of the surroundings, the desert, I let myself believe, in a glimmer of hope, that it was only a mirage. But from where I sat, alone at the very front of the bus, the guard beyond the iron mesh took notice of the look on my face and he smiled a sinister smile. It was no mirage. It was very real, and it was my new home.

† † †

I had to grind my teeth when I stepped off the bus. It hadn't been air conditioned, which had never been an expectation, so I had felt the heat, but stepping onto that soil with nothing between the sun and I but the hair atop my head nearly made me faint. For one brief moment, I wondered how the hell I was going to survive the atmosphere, never mind my new 'family'. But my thoughts were cut short when several guards advanced toward us, led by a man in a cowboy hat. Some of the ladies behind me snickered, but I kept my mouth shut and my face as stoic as possible, even when a few of them decided to whistle and say 'yeehaw'. Besides, I was a native southerner so I didn't find it quite as amusing as they did. Their outbursts, however, did not go unnoticed by the guards, nor did they go unnoticed by the man in the hat. His face was unsettlingly unreadable.

After the guards' introductions, our names were called in a roll-call fashion and since mine didn't come until near the end, I had a moment to take in my surroundings. All around was desert, a horribly depressing sight, especially for anyone who had been considering an escape. I had to suppress the rolling of my eyes and the grin on my face when I remembered one of the more seasoned women bragging, guaranteeing that she would be able to devise an escape plan within her first week here. Sure, she may be able to escape, but where to? There was nothing but dehydration and skin cancer awaiting anyone who dared challenge the flatlands around this place.

I was snapped back into reality by the harsh shout of Captain Knauer. Apparently, I hadn't heard my name being called, the first, second, or third time, and he spied me not paying attention, my eyes far away staring at the neutral colors around me. I couldn't see much of his face beneath that hat and behind those dark shades, but I was certain his eyes said he wouldn't put up with any shit, especially in front of all of his new charges. As for the rest of the degenerates he oversaw, they were watching us through the fence in disbelief, undoubtedly because we weren't men. I had been told that our gender would warrant us absolutely no privileges, save being celled with another woman, and that was made absolutely clear right then and there.

I stepped forward and filed in line behind the women who had already been accounted for, not daring to look any of the guards in the eye. I'd heard stories that the farther south you go, the less likely you were to have an eyewitness, whether someone had actually seen your beating or not. I'm not totally sure why this is, but I'm sure they banded together, all of these country boys, and wouldn't think twice about beating me bloody for looking at them wrong whether I meant to or not.

One of the guards, one whose name I hadn't caught when it had been given, tripped me in my haste to rectify my absentmindedness, causing me not only to trip and fall into the woman in front of me, but also to fall on my forearm. During my tumble, I felt a pain in my arm, but considering I'd injured it only three days prior, I didn't think twice about it. Painfully, I held my tongue and tightened my jaw as I got to my feet, still refusing to look the guard in the eye, even as he towered over me and told me quite crudely to watch where I was going. Everything's bigger in Texas? If this enormous Neanderthal was anything to go by, I guess so.

A few minutes later, when we all had been accounted for and were walking single-file to our new lives, my eyes spied something I'd missed moments before. The bandage wrapped around my limb was slowly soaking through with my blood, and I could only assume that the fall had ripped my stitches open. Great. I wasn't particularly sure speaking up and consequently whining about it was the best option, so I let it go. Eventually, one of the guards would notice it anyway and probably bitch at me for bleeding all over the place.

There were several of us newest additions that the warden wanted to see personally. This is how I found myself sitting quietly in a corridor outside his office with five other women and three of the guards. The captain had been ordered into the warden's office when the first woman had been summoned. We were told to wait in silence and maintain order which we all did. A blonde with a missing incisor and leathery, sun-ravaged skin was nervously tapping her foot, something that the guards told her to cease. She complied, only to be told to stop chewing her nails moments later. Truly, I could understand why there was a significant amount of nervousness involved, but it only made it worse letting it be known, especially to the guards. Perhaps I was the only one who knew that.

I was the last to be called upon, the other women having already been escorted to their cells by the guards. I tried to keep a straight face when I walked in to see the warden and the captain but I could feel my brow furrowing against my will. Whether it was from worry or intimidation or something completely different, I wasn't sure. The warden, with a warm, albeit phony smile on his face, requested that I take a seat across from him at his desk and I did so, trying in vain to hide my arm from his sight.

Captain Knauer hauled me up to me feet in the instant that I sat, his grip against my upper arm rather uncomfortable, even more so because I could have stood of my own volition had he only asked me to. The way he held my arm up for the warden to see and the disapproving look on his face made me think he had come to the conclusion that I had injured myself to go to the infirmary, to get out of the first day of orientation. I wasn't about to tell him that his dickhead fellow guard had been the cause behind it. It simply wasn't wise to make hardcore enemies in my first day.

"Ms. Thorpe, you mind telling me what happened?" the warden asked, pointing to my arm. His tone was soft, though his concern was not for me but rather for his own safety, I reckon. Nevertheless, he had yet to be a dick, so I felt nothing good would come from being nasty, especially aimed toward him or one of his men.

"I fell, sir," I responded plainly, looking the man straight in the eye with not even a hint of defiance in my own. I had to admit, though, with the loss of blood I was currently dealing with and the captain's iron-clasp around my bicep, my fingers were beginning to tingle.

"You fell?" He seemed almost skeptical, causing me to nod mutely before he put on a pair of reading glasses and began to flip through my file. Meanwhile, I was still at the captain's mercy, wiggling my fingers and trying to will some more feeling into them. Apparently he had seen this and his grip loosened, but he didn't drop me all together. When the warden finally found what he was looking for, his eyebrow raised.

"Says here you got into a tussle with your cellmate. Far cry from a fall."

"No, sir-."

"You wouldn't be saying I'm wrong, would you?"

Damn it. I did not like where this was going. I didn't appreciate being manhandled and I didn't appreciate being cut off when I was speaking, but I held it in. I have a short fuse, an incredibly short one, but the last place I needed it to detonate was on my first day here in front of a man who was sure to give me hell for my entire stay and another man who could order him to inflict that hell.

"No, sir. Not at all," I replied compliantly, fighting down my agitation.

Seemingly in love with this answer and also high from the fact that he had misconstrued my words to make me look like an ass, he went back to my file. Flipping through the rather thick pile of papers, he looked to have little interest in what he was reading until he found the goldmine. He waved his hand dismissively and Knauer finally released me, leaving me free to sit cautiously on the edge of the seat, fighting the urge to rub the feeling back into my arm.

"You know, this file here mentions quite a bit about you prior to turning into a criminal," he said theatrically. "I know you wouldn't mind filling me in on why a pretty, young lady like yourself made such a rapid turn from college scholarships to making lunch runs for the mob." It wasn't a question and I knew damn well I had better answer him. The fact that he deliberately called me a tool was not lost on me, either.

"It was the family business, sir. I fell into it unexpectedly."

"Just like you fell and hurt yourself," he said with a snaky smile. What I wouldn't give to slap it off of his face. "Ms. Thorpe, you might find your behavior at other correctional facilities got you little more than a warning, but here we won't tolerate it." Clearly he had seen the many reports of my past 'incidents' in that file. "You screw up, you suffer the consequences, no exceptions. You break the rules, even once, and I'll find the worst job imaginable to keep you busy. You understand me?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, Captain Knauer will see you to the infirmary. After that, you'll settle into your cell. I advise you get as much rest as possible because we rise early down here in Texas and we work hard."

Trying my best to ignore the gratification he got from watching me fight not to squirm or lash out, I was led to the door by Captain Knauer. Thankfully, this time I was free of his clutches. Just before I exited the office, I heard the warden welcome me to Allenville with a cheerfulness that was purely fronted for anyone who may have overheard him now that the door was open. I scoffed unwillingly. It was only faintly, but Knauer heard it and despite being hidden by those massive shades, I could tell his eyes were boring into me as his head turned in my direction.

The one thing I realized would take some getting used to was being around so many people who were the equivalent of giants. The guard who had tripped me, although I hadn't really looked much at him, had been a mass of a human; I could tell by how distant his voice sounded as he stood over me, like he was so far up in the air that it took away from the volume of his deep voice. The others I had seen earlier in the hallway were also quite large. Knauer was not so big, but he was neither small. And for the first time, I realized something that should have come to mind long before this; my size was most definitely going to be against me.

I wasn't terribly small, but I was nowhere near big enough to thwart being threatened by Knauer, the asshole who had tripped me, and probably every other man here, especially the guards. After all, they had access to guns and those lovely nightsticks they seemed all too fond of.

As I silently padded next to Knauer, I wondered what was running through the mind of the other women. Surely, they were already settled in their cells but that only meant they would be left alone to their thoughts. I'm sure they were all riddled with anxiety, and I was just the same. When I laid my head down later on, then I could try to let the tension ease from my body, but the long corridor I was walking down coupled with the silence of the man next to me unnerved me. It was such a frivolous thing, really, so I have no idea why it nagged at me, but it did. Maybe it was Captain Knauer; he was so… imposing.

While getting taken care of in the infirmary, I realized the reason for my earlier discomfort. The fact that I had not seen Knauer's eyes bugged the hell out of me. He hadn't said a word since bringing me to the nurse currently rewrapping my arm and he hadn't moved from where he stood by the door, but he was facing my general direction. Just the possibility that he could have been staring at nothing but me for the past fifteen minutes gave me the chills. I got over this quickly though as the nurse, a genuinely friendly woman, had released me. The bloodied bandage she had removed from my arm really made things look worse than they truly were. Sure, I had lost blood enough to look as if I had snagged an artery, but it wasn't enough to matter too greatly. I'd only pulled five stitches - it could have been worse.

After Knauer and I left the infirmary, on the way to my cell, we made a few stops. Before anything else could happen, I was taken to a small room for a body search. There were two other guards there, men I hadn't seen before, and one of them already had bright blue gloves on, ready for the cavity searching to begin. I'd had my fair share of these by this point, so I knew it was fruitless to try to get out of it. Without being prompted, I took my hair down, placing the hair tie on my wrist, and removed my clothes until I was standing before them naked. Knauer, the 'gentleman' that he was, waited outside.

I gritted my teeth and thought happy thoughts during the whole thing. I expected the man checking me to go straight for the goods like a pig, but he was actually quite respectful. After he'd ensured that I had nothing hiding in my mouth, nose, ears, and hair, I was instructed to put my hands on my head as his hands made their descent down my body. No matter how respectful he was, though, one never does get used to being violated in such a manner. I was damn glad when it was over and I was issued my new uniform.

Nothing too eventful happened after that - after being recuffed, Knauer took me to get my bedding, the last stop before my final destination. When we finally arrived at my cell, my new cellmate had already taken the bottom bunk, but I chose not to make a big deal about it. I'd seen her on the bus, a shorthaired brunette, and she was as equally quiet as myself. Giving her a hassle would have been unnecessary and a waste of energy. Besides, I'd rather be on good terms with her than bad, seeing as how I was going to be spending a lot of time with her in the future.

Truthfully, when Captain Knauer undid the cuffs binding my wrists and left me alone with my cellmate, I felt relief. Once again, he had chosen not to speak to me, not bothering to point out certain things as we passed them like the mess hall and showers and courtyard and so forth. He was probably like any other guard and thought that he was better than me, that I was a piece of trash and was doing nothing but littering the earth with my presence. I really don't think I could fault him too much in that area. But as he retreated down the corridor, without a word spoken, I felt a tension lift from me that I hadn't realized was so thick before. That man unnerved me.

We were ordered to wait until the start of the next day to really come out of our shells, so to speak. All of the women's cells were grouped together at the beginning of one of the corridors, all on the second floor of the block, easily in view of the guards when they did their patrolling. Easily in view, also, of the male inmates who passed by our cells. One of the women put up a fuss about it, citing our privacy as a basis for concern. Her request to be moved went unheard. No surprise there.

You would think that in a prison run by those with a brain, that we women would be placed in a protective custody wing. At all of the prisons I had been to previously, said sections were always available to those who needed them, former cops and child killers being amongst these people. But it hadn't been mentioned here and I had a sneaking suspicion that it didn't exist. Then again, this was the first prison I had ever witnessed that was so desolate, unorthodox, and dated. Usually prisons were surrounded by heaps of precaution. Electric fencing, impossible to climb walls, numerous guard towers, dozens of armed guards, dogs, layers upon layers of razor wire - these were things I had always seen in the prisons I had been in. But so far, I had seen only a few of these things here. Of course, the guards that I had seen outside patrolling when I first arrived seemed to have quite a bond with their rifles, so I have no doubt that they would use them the first chance they got. In fact, I was willing to bet they wished some trouble would arise just so they could.

The only reason I could think that this particular facility lacked so many of the more modern things was because of its location. Usually prisons were in much less rural areas, surrounded by trees and such, so if an escape was made beyond the borders, escape was almost inevitable. But here, if you did make it over the wall, they'd be able to see you, and not long after, you would undoubtedly have bullets imbedded in your body. But if you were fool enough to try your escape, then you deserved it. And if you could pull it off, then you personally would have my respect. That being said, I'm pretty certain that The Shawshank Redemption was a work of fiction. So whoever it was I had previously heard plotting their escape might want to take that into account.

By the time I'd gotten settled in, the light at the end of the corridor, shining through a small, high, barred window, had ceased to reflect on the tiled ground. It was undoubtedly evening, and since we weren't allowed to have jewelry, I had no idea what hour it was. We had been on that horrible bus for far too long, first starting out at nine in the morning, so it could be any time of the day or night. The next day would likely hold many obstacles and uncertainties, so all I could do was stare at the ceiling while I listened to my cellmate breathe. I thought she was asleep, but awhile later, she spoke up, her voice oddly small, almost as if she were afraid.

"What are you in for?" she questioned timidly, her voice not much louder than hushed.

It took me a moment to answer. I wasn't sure if she was someone I wanted to converse with, especially about my personal business, but I figured if I ignored her and she had somehow known I was awake, there might be a bit of tension between she and I. The last thing I wanted was that kind of heaviness between myself and a woman who had access to me while I slept.

"Murder." I was almost surprised at how strained the word came out. Perhaps it was from the lack of vocalization for most of the day, or the fact that I was lying on my back, or maybe even because of my emotional guilt. Either way, it sounded strange to my ears. "You?"

"Same. My husband. What about you?"

I scoffed cynically and in a tone more monotonous than I had intended, in a voice I was sure wasn't my own, I replied, "Lots of people."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews and favorites are appreciated! :)