Charlie had been grateful when they showed him to his cell and he found that he had no cellmate. He was also glad to be on the far end of the second floor, away from regular activity and prisoner traffic. He was scared out of his mind when he walked past the other cells and felt all eyes on him. He knew he was the 'fresh meat' and he knew he had to be careful.
He had been brought in in the afternoon, when the inmates were locked in their cells for the night, so he at least had the night safe in his own cell. He wasn't sure how much sleep he'd get though; he would more than likely stay up all night worrying about facing tomorrow.
He attempted to relax, lying curled up on his cot; to his surprise he found himself drifting off to sleep relatively quickly. He dreamt first that he was back home with his family, they were all having dinner together. Then the scene changed and he was teaching a class at CalSci; scribbling away on the blackboard, explaining different theories. His dream was nice, but it ended all too quickly; he was pulled out of it with the sound of a loud buzz.
Charlie remembered that he was in prison, and longed to go back into his dream and stay there longer. He watched his fellow inmates filing past his open cell, none of them looked at him; they were only interested in breakfast. He waited for the line to die down before he tagged along, following the line as it snaked to the cafeteria.
He chose an empty table to sit at with his tray of food, and avoided eye contact of everyone by looking down at the floor in front of him, or straight at his food.
The food, he noted, actually tasted better than hospital food. Even still, he found he lacked much appetite, so didn't eat his entire portion.
Breakfast was a loud affair; the inmates talked, joked and even argued about trivial things such as the weather. Charlie was beginning to believe he was scared for no reason; they all seemed nice enough.
After breakfast came twenty minutes of outdoor time. Numbers started appearing in Charlie's head for the first time in weeks, he saw them everywhere; in the group numbers and patterns based on location and population. Numbers around the outdoor gym area, the bleachers that had people scattered on them in an unintentional order. And in the basketball area, where it appeared as if it was all on all, but after closer inspection Charlie devised that there were two teams of three, and the rest were spectating or subs.
"Hey what're you looking at?!" Charlie was startled away from his numbers by one of the basketball subs who had noticed him watching them. Charlie forgot where he was; only remembering the numbers. He knew how one of the players could improve his three point shooting.
Everyone in the large group stopped their game and looked at Charlie aggressively as he made his way over to them, mumbling calculations.
"I saw your throw, the three point one. And I think I know how you can improve your technique so you have up to an 85% chance of getting it in." Charlie made gestures towards the player, the ball and the ring. "May I?" he held his hands out for the ball and several of them laughed at him.
He was too late in noticing that the group had now surrounded him; he was in the centre of a round wall of well-toned men. It was then that he remembered that he wasn't in a class, or even a park, he was in prison.
"I… I'm sorry." He dropped his gaze to the ground and tried to walk back the way he came, but instead of moving out of his way, they pushed him across to the other side of the circle with a "where do you think you're going?"
They amused themselves with pushing him across the circle in random directions a few times before one of them got bored and punched his stomach instead of catching him and pushing him again. Charlie put an arm around his stomach protectively and backed away from the one who punched him; only to be kicked square in the back from behind. He fell forwards onto his hands and knees, receiving one kick in the ribs, and then he was really in trouble; the circle converged on him, kicking and punching any of him they could reach. He curled into a ball in an attempt to lessen the damage, but there were too many of them.
He barely noticed when the group quickly dispersed, leaving him alone curled in a foetal position on the ground.
A guard knelt next to him and checked to make sure he was alright before helping him to his feet. Charlie looked around nervously once he was standing, but the group was already back into its game of basketball.
The guard escorted Charlie to the prison infirmary, where he was cuffed to a bed and left in the hands of the doctor.
"What happened?" She asked him softly while looking over his injuries and cleaning any open ones.
"I forgot I was in prison, not a classroom" he said simply.
"You're new" It wasn't a question but he nodded anyway.
"The first week is the hardest, trust me."
"Statistically you are right, but the statistics usually don't include people like me."
"People like you?"
"Professors… Mathematicians.."
"Ahh. I don't usually ask this, but how did someone like you end up in here?"
Charlie stared down at his hands and fought against the urge to cry. "I was kidnapped, and then days after I was free of him… I was arrested, and later convicted, of helping my kidnapper murder someone."
The doctor halted her work for a moment, "if you were kidnapped then why were you convicted?"
"Because they didn't believe I was kidnapped… My brother Was almost killed… because of me."
"Your brother was ALMOST killed. He's alive still, and I bet he's trying to get your charges dropped right now. Have faith."
Charlie wiped a small trickle of blood from his lip with his free hand, but didn't say anything more to the doctor.
The guard came back and escorted Charlie to his cell under doctor's orders to 'take it easy'. Charlie was just glad he could be alone in his cell again, his first taste of prison was bleak, and he only expected it to get worse.