Sorry everybunny, my doc manager wasn't working ;(

"Name?" asked the age-old receptionist, the question directed at Curt and not me. I glared up at her, but she didn't even spare me a glance.

Curt gave her a smirk and told her, "Whip Greenfeld."

This time, the receptionist stopped her typing and actually did look at me, her eyes wide. "Really?" she squeaked.

Curt slowly nodded, his smile growing bigger.

The receptionist looked down at her laptop, her eyes still wide in disbelief.

And man, it felt good.

"She'll be in wing A. Maria!" A short, stout woman came scuttling down the hall. "Please escort Whip Greenfeld to wing A, block 4."

Maria nodded, eyes on her shoes, and speedily attached a chain to my handcuffs, pulling me by it behind her.

Oh great, a leash.

Now I'm a dog.

We walked through endless hallways, all of them sickly silent.

When we turned a corner, there was a hallway with doors on either side of it marked with letters.

She kept her eyes down as she opened the door for me and led me in, closing and deadbolting it behind me. I smirked at the pitiful security. Nothing that Cammie Morgan can't handle.

I took a look around. There were bunk beds, about ten of them in rows. A few kids were playing cards on a clapboard table in the corner, and some were tucked into bed. Some had books open. Some were chatting.

But they all looked evil.

Some glint in their eye, something they were wearing. they all looked like a stereotyped delinquent.

Except for one girl, sitting curled up in her bed on the bottom bunk, sketching in her pad with her left hand.

And she was dressed in bright pink.

"Your bunk is over here. Number 14," Maria stated quietly, pointing out the right one and hurriedly exiting back out the door she came from.

It deadlocked behind us.

I glanced around the room. Kids were wearing chains, tatoos, and piercings.

I didn't even have my ears pierced.

My eyes locked on the bunk bed she was talking about. number thriteen..

It was right above bunk number thirteen.

And on bunk number thirteen, there sat a little girl who looked around six, sketching in her pad with her left hand.

And she was dressed in bright pink.

Sorry future! I had to!

Reviews? Appreciated!

Luv ya bunches,

Em