Been a while again! Sorry guys and girls, but here's the long awaited chapter, sadly though… It's not the breakout! But it's a nice little chapter that shows some of the things that happen to Mindy while she's in prison. I actually had two ideas for this chapter, and wrote them separately before joining them up, so enjoy!

Chapter Ten – Mindy

I wanted to punch him, so fucking badly. But it wasn't any use, with these bloody cuffs around my wrists it was pointless to even try. But that didn't stop me thinking about it. Instead, I just refused to acknowledge him at first. But that's when it became personal.

"Miss McCready don't you think we should just talk? Come on, we're both adults here, I'm your psychiatrist for goodness sake! I'm trying…" he leant in closer to my face and continued, whispering. "To get you a lighter sentence here! But I need information on your background first!"

I just stayed quiet, but then he smirked, pulling papers from his briefcase and setting them down on the table gently, before picking the first one on the top, and throwing it to me. I looked at it and then smirked, not even bothering to give him any other response. The fucker was probably around fifty, balding, a low life scumbag probably looking for money to try convince everyone I was 'insane.' Heh, that wouldn't work, especially not with me. He wasn't getting anything, not one, single, thing… Not a peep.

The picture he'd slid towards me on the table was a picture of me, the real me, not Mindy, it was without a doubt my real self, Hit-Girl. It looked like some sort of tabloid photograph, taken from down the street away from my view. I must have been having an off-day to not notice something like that though.

"That's you isn't it?" he asked, and I just stared at him bleakly, before he sighed. "And this?" he slid over another photograph, this time however, it made my blood boil.

He just smirked, almost mimicking my response when he showed me the first picture. He crossed his arms, creasing his suede cotton suit, and gently tapped the table with his fingers, before speaking once again.

"That's your father isn't it Miss McCready? That's your father, the man who died on the news. Is that why you continue to do this? To avenge your father in some sort of vigilante justice? Some criminal deluded act that –"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed, forgetting my previous vow to remain silent. "SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!" He just sat there motionless, before reaching down under the table once again to the briefcase.

He stopped, and then grinned throwing a mask onto the table. But it wasn't just any mask, and seeing it there in front of me made me feel more alone than ever. It wasn't my mask, no, it was Big Daddy's mask.

I didn't sleep that night, instead I cried constantly, which was so unlike me. Normally I'd have just tried to rip that fucker's head off, but being tied down like that, in that room shacked by my arms and feet made me feel so useless, so alone. So unlike my usual self.

That mask there in front of me, by itself, made me feel so vulnerable. After that I remained absolutely silent, he'd placed his ace from his sleeve, or rather briefcase and had nothing else to say. Instead he simply packed everything away and said to the warden he'd be back next week to see me. That's what he thinks anyway, to hell if he thinks he'll ever get another glance at me without my fist flying down his fucking throat. What a cock-sucker.

I didn't even realize I was clenching my fists so hard until I noticed blood rising from my nails, I stopped and just sat up on my stone hard mattress, and looked through the bars of my cell into the hallway opposite. Listening carefully I could hear the other cellmates singing, and as ridiculous as it sounds, it made me feel at ease.

I stayed that way until morning when I eventually saw lights flicker on and the wardens rounding up other prisoners. The warden walked up to my cell cautiously, they always did, scared of me like they were some kind of worm and I was the bird of prey. He just nodded at me in acknowledgement and waited for me to get up from the bed. When I didn't move he just started stuttering.

"Um.. You – uhm – you –y-you have to g-get up, uhm – It's time for break-" I cut him off, saying I knew what time it was. With that I stood up and made my way to the cafeteria. I fucking hated eating with these pigs around here, some of which I helped put away at one point or another.

There were always a few guys who tried to start a fight with me, but none usually had the ball to go through with it. That was – Until today.

The wardens were partially to blame of course though, they forced me into that cafeteria filled with them, knowing fully well what I was capable of doing, if things went hazy. Queuing for my food, a few of the other prisoners started laughing when they saw me. The usual, I just ignored them, but then some punk came right up into my face, the first time anyone had ever dared get this close.

"What's a sweet little thing like you doing in this big bad place eh?" he whispered gently into my ear, his hand slowly making its way towards my ass. Big mistake buddy, the next second he was screaming in agony about his newly broken hand. Within moments the other inmates started towards me, but they stood no chance. Without getting into too much detail, let me just say that None of them will be walking any time soon. Even the Prison wardens who raced to take me down couldn't do it, not at first anyway. Daddy would have been proud if he'd seen me. I was doing the right thing, fighting this scum in here. As I was eventually dragged away I screamed out to those still scattering that 'I'm not locked in here with you! You're locked here with me!' Unfortunately this didn't go down well with any of the Security officers here.

They slammed me into the lockdown cells that they usually only used as a last resort. Claiming that I wouldn't be let out unless I agreed to speak to a Psychiatrist right away to 'assess my obvious distortions of reality.' I laughed at that, spitting at the officer that suggested it. I wasn't seeing that jackass again, not in a million years.