Today was a black day, nothing but people with their cold blank eyes watching you? Not that this was any different from the other years I've been here: at this prison house. It all comes back to me now, that cold night, my hurt, the gun, and him.
"Come on move it, let's go come on," the prison guard shouts, watching us in disgust. As I move my prisoner uniform: worn, torn at the ankles, and two sizes to big drags along the floor. Today was visitor day, where all the parents come see their kids. Me I don't any visitors my parents died three years ago in a fire, and my friends are afraid of me. Here I'm the oldest at the age of sixteen, the rest range in age from nine to fifteen.
"All right, thanks Mom!" she says with a little too much sarcasm. That's Alyson she is the youngest, when she was just eight she murdered her best friend.
"Times up please pass, any gifts through the metal detector." Ms. Mega says with the same pathetic, weak, small, voice she always has. Since I'm the oldest I appointed myself leader of our "family" so I do a mental check list to make sure no one played hooky. They all walk past me: Fane he's fifteen and doesn't talk much he has jet black hair which he keeps spiked, Amber she's thirteen skinny and a total drama queen, PJ is Fane's little brother he's ten and very athletic, Sarah is ten and scared she's been used a lot, and finally Alyson the nine year old who's hard as rocks and cold as ice.
Time to head back to our cells I share a cell with Fane there are two metal beds that are attached to the wall by metal chains, a small metal sink that's never really clean , a cracked mirror, and a bathroom that's a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. I see my reflection in the mirror: tall, long light brown hair freckles, and sunken in eyes. Though this is not the care free thirteen year old I remember three years ago, before I came here. Before my parents died, before I saw what life really was.
"Lights out and no funny business!" Ms. Mega says trying to make her voice sound louder than it really is. Fane walks in with the same expression he always wears: guilt. For you see when he just turned fifteen he was lost and confused. A man came up to him to try and help, but Fane was quick to put a six inch blade through his chest. That man was just about his age.
"Good night Stacie," Fane says watching his feet as he climbs into bed. Yes that's my Stacie, sixteen and a killer. It all happened three years ago I had been walking on the bad side of Brooklyn, I was upset I just found out that my parents died. There it was on the ground looked brand new: a gun. Then I saw someone was watching me.
"Why hello little lady," It was a wrinkly old man with a tone anything but friendly. He came toward me trying to grab me and I shoot him just like that. I left him there with a silver bullet in his head face down in the dirt with a puddle of blood forming around his body. I just walked right in to prison and I've been here since.
"Good night Fane," he merely grumbles at my response. As I lay my light brown hair stands up, and my eyes alert: someone's her besides me and Fane. Then I feel it a strong hand that's pressing down on my mouth. The room goes blurry and I pass out.
"Good morning sunshine," his voice smacks me across the face with the smell of whisky. I get up I'm in a forest its dark and I'm alone, great.
"Who are you?" my voice still gasping for air. I can tell even in the dim light that he tenses and he pauses. Perhaps hurt that I don't remember him.
"You don't remember me? Its Daddy honey," he says with such sadness in his voice it makes me want to cry. Part of me wants to truly believe it's him the other part tells me it's just a dream.
"It can't be you, you and Mom both died in a fire when I was thirteen." My voice shakes trying to decipher if this is reality or a sick trick that my brain is playing on me. I don't understand this has to be a dream if it isn't I'm scared.
"No, we're not we're," there what? Where are they are they really alive: I need to know.
"Daddy where are," my voice is cut off and the forest starts turning. My eyes swelling with tears I will never know where they are. I wake up in a cold sweat and crying. I must have awoken Fane with my dream. He's shaking me I think but I really can't tell.
"Stacie, get up, get up," he says with an edge I've never heard in his voice before. Then it strikes me he cares about me.
"I up, thanks Fane," I walk tiredly over to the sink. I splash ice cold water on my face. I starting to have second thoughts about it I wonder.
"Are you ok Stacie?" He says with such concern and just a hint of sensitivity it makes me happy for him to show any emotion.
"Yeah I'm fine," I just wonder you know I just can't picture it my parents being alive. Fane comes closer to me and whispers in my ear.
"Whatever you need I will be there for you," then he kisses me. I know two things for sure: I need to find my parents, and Fane is coming with me.
"Will you come with me out of here I mean," I don't think he will but it's worth asking.
"Of course, my little Stacie," oh my isn't that sweet he called me his little Stacie; no one's called me that since my parents died.
"Yay, let's go we got to get out of here." I motion him to follow me to our one small window where I saw off the bars, we climb out and we run for our lives. We are at least a thousand yards away and there's a clearing in the forest.
"Where are we going?" Fane asked he seems scared to be away from the place we called home for so long but it was never really home.
"We're going to find my parents." I stand up and take his hand it's me and him against the world now.