Sitting in the corner of the Skybox canteen where I knew that I couldn't be crept up on, I obsessively watched my surroundings. The constant state of hypervigilance was exhausting beyond description and the lack of sleep only worsened that feeling. A week had already passed since my imprisonment and I hadn't spoken a word. I was uninterested in the bravado that was regularly shared in this environment as everyone strained to bolster their reputation and as a result, I felt that it was wasteful to reach out to anyone. The other inmates appeared to be quite comfortable as they socialised together, behaving as if this were a completely normal situation and I wondered how long it took to become blaise about life as a delinquent.
The cold metal of the bench slowly seeped into my skin and I fidgeted with my sleeves in an effort to cover more of my arms. It was concerning to behold some of the skimpy outfits that the female residents wore, but I reminded myself that most people my age were more concerned with their appearance than comfort. My father often joked that I was born cold and for much of my childhood, he fondly nicknamed me Frosty. I missed hearing that name now more than ever in my solitary existence. I curled closer into myself in the hope to generate more heat as I scanned the room with a nervous bounce in my leg.
A raucous conversation from a nearby table caught my attention, where a group proudly exchanged tall tales and I rolled my eyes in frustration. I was envious of the freedom with which they were able to discuss their crimes and the confident way that they ignored the guards, as if they weren't a threat. As I assessed my surroundings, I reminded myself that I'd declined a plea deal that could have prevented this situation and sighed as I rubbed at. Y tired eyes. I was still in a state of disbelief about my incarceration; until one week ago, everything in my life seemed to be falling neatly into place exactly as I'd meticulously planned. For many years I studied hard to ensure that I could provide for my family and as a result I knew that I had a bright future ahead of me. Ending up in lockup had never crossed my mind and as I sat nervously knitting my hands together, I had to acknowledge that some part of me awaited rescue.
I almost jumped out of my seat as a guard appeared at my side and pulled me from my thoughts.
"Ballard. Follow me." He ordered firmly and I peeked up at him with terrified eyes. It was still unnerving to be addressed by my surname and it was a painful reminder of my status as a prisoner.
I obediently got to my feet without question and followed the hulking man with shaking legs. My mind raced through scenarios as I was paraded out of the canteen and I hoped that I wasn't being taken for another gruelling interview. I had tried everything that I could think of to blend into the background here, hoping that perhaps they might forget about me, but inwardly I knew that this wasn't a tactic that was likely to be effective. The guard led me to a security door that he opened with a keycard and stepped aside to indicate with his arm that I needed to enter alone. With a dreadful anxiety crushing my chest, I hesitated for a moment to take a deep breath and steeled myself as I walked into the unknown.
"Cassidy!" A familiar voice announced as I entered the small room and I was startled by the presence of Abby. She scanned me with an expression of deep concern, her long brunette hair framing her pretty, affectionate face and I could easily identify that her eyes were filled with unspent tears. She rushed forward to embrace me and the moment that her arms wrapped around me protectively, I was immediately calmed by her warmth. She seemed to hold onto me for dear life and I felt no urgency to rush her away, allowing myself to indulge in her comfort. When she finally pulled away, she kept a tight grip on my shoulders to thoroughly scrutinise my condition.
"Are you alright? Has anyone hurt you?" She investigated with a hoarse voice and I shook my head gratefully. "Thank god! I can't believe that they put you in here." She stated with an obvious frustration as she guided me to a couple of seats and maintained a grip on my arm as we settled into place beside each other. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. They wouldn't let me see you." She explained with an apologetic tone and I couldn't help a slight smile at the thought that whilst I'd been feeling abandoned, she'd actually been trying to reach me.
"Is my old man okay?" I enquired in a small, nervous voice and she viewed me with an obvious sympathy. My father required regular care to manage his condition, care that I had provided for my years now. The decision to study medicine had developed from this experiment and my commitment had resulted in me securing my place as an intern in the Go-Sci clinic.
During my placement, I was assigned Dr Abigail Griffin as my resident and she quickly became a treasured mother figure in my life. Our relationship had grown so close that it was difficult to identify where my family ended and hers began. Her daughter Clarke assisted in the clinic whenever we were short handed and although we hadn't had the opportunity to develop a strong bond, I was certain that I liked her.
It was soothing to spend time in Abby's familiar company and this was the first moment of normality that I'd had following the shock of my imprisonment.
"Yes, sweetheart. I'm keeping an eye on him. Don't worry. I'll make sure that he gets his medication." She promised with a fond smile and I felt my shoulders drop their tension at her assertion. Since my mother was floated, I'd carried the responsibility of planning for our family and at times, it was almost impossible to afford the medication that my father depended on to survive. Although the stress of this responsibility had supposedly been the cause of my mother's irrational behaviour, I was determined to manage his needs more efficiently and built my life around this desire. Meeting Abby had provided a level of stability that I had never known during my upbringing and I was eternally grateful to know that I could always depend on her.
"I can't understand how this happened. They're saying that you won't tell them anything?" She started to explain and I furrowed my brows at her. It hadn't crossed my mind that the guards would possibly discuss any details of my case with her before she visited. I considered her position on the council and quickly realised that they were likely depending on her bond with me to gain valuable information, whether she realised her part in it or not. I had already been barraged with questions by the guards when I declined to give a statement in my defence at the time of my arrest.
The nature of their interrogation had indicated that the council was unaware of the arrangements behind the routine delivery of medication that I had completed that morning. I easily understood that any explanation I provided would only result in further unjustified arrests and so I simply accepted the punishment without attempting to fight for myself. The guards charged me with smuggling drugs for profit and the moment that I was informed of the verdict, my world came crashing down.
Abby sighed in disappointment at my silent reaction and scanned the room in an effort to decide on her next words.
"I know that you wouldn't have done something malicious. You're a good girl, Cassidy. You don't get mixed up in anything and you know that you're valuable. You must be able to explain so that they realise you don't belong here." She suggested as she examined my face closely and I met her eyes with reluctance.
I was unsure if there was anything that I could divulge that would satisfy her, but I couldn't withstand the pain in her eyes as she poured her heart out. My chest ached as I longed for the simple days that we'd once shared, when I still worked beside her in the clinic and I wished that my life could have remained that way. Unfortunately, as part of gaining my qualification, it was necessary for me to rotate around various doctors and I never anticipated that this process would derail my life permanently.
I struggled with the weight of my regrets as Abby's eyes bore into my face.
"I thought it was authorised." I whispered as quietly as I could manage, fearful that I was being trapped somehow and I knew that this was the only justification that I could risk providing.
"I knew that you had to have believed that." She asserted with a hint of pride in her melancholy voice. She fixed me with a scrutinising look and I felt uncomfortable under the intensity of her gaze. "Who asked you to do the delivery?" She interrogated with the kind of authority that only a mother could resource and I felt my stomach lurch. I held my blank expression despite my deep temptation to crumble into her for comfort. "I have my suspicions, but there's only so much that I can do without any information. The warden said that they offered you a deal?" She enquired with a hint of hope and I gulped nervously, realising she hadn't been informed that I'd already declined the offer.
"The names of any co-conspirators in exchange for a guaranteed release on my eighteenth birthday and solitary confinement for the length of my sentence for protection." I confirmed quietly and I watched her eyes widen in horror as it dawned on her that I would not be accepting it. I couldn't explain that I still adamantly believed that I was protecting a noble cause without potentially implicating the others and had to bite my lip to contain the truth that longed to escape my lips.
"Cassidy, I don't know who you think you're protecting, but you don't have to let them throw you under the bus. You're smarter than this. Please, don't be a martyr." She appealed with evident desperation and I raised my internal defences to her pleas. Though she didn't see, to realise it, her insinuation that the others involved didn't care about me was hurtful and it was gut wrenching to know that I couldn't ask for any details about their behaviour since my arrest without raising suspicions. I crossed my arms in a sulking silence and she sighed disappointedly at me when I continued to hold my tongue. "You know that you can trust me?" She stated finally, reaching out to take my hand in hers and I shook my head at her as I pulled my hand away. In truth, I wasn't confident that I could trust anyone after the bizarre circumstances that led me here and even as her expression crumbled into despair, I kept my jaw tightly clenched.
For once, I was relieved when the guards re-entered to announce that visitation was over and allowed them to escort me from the room with a heavy feeling of exhaustion. I couldn't cope with any further investigations and for the first time since my incarceration began, I was glad to return to the peace of my cell.
Another week passed in the same uneventful pattern and I started to feel that I might collapse from the exhaustion of constantly expecting danger. I hadn't spoken a word to anyone since my time in the visitation room with Abby, but this wasn't as difficult as I would have imagined; long periods of quiet had always been in my nature. Although it was common for others to consider me timid because of my reserved personality, I had discovered that this misconception gave me an unexpected advantage.
Over the years I had noticed that people were more inclined to speak freely to fill the silence and they often did not expect me to repeat anything. I was resourceful enough to realise that this was a skill that I could benefit from and I used it to befriend the deviant youth that could provide me with supplies that I wouldn't otherwise be able to source. There were plenty of ways to misplace medical herbs on Agro station and I used these alongside my developing medical knowledge to decrease the amount of medication that my father needed.
Unfortunately, my silence now was more deeply rooted in a distrust for those around me and constant fear that I would accidentally reveal something that could have far reaching consequences, but I was thankful for the years of practice that made it easier to maintain.
I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice the approach of the other inmate until her lunch tray clattered on the table and I startled dramatically at her arrival.
"Hey! It's cool. Don't freak out. I come in peace." She announced as she held her hands in the air with a warm smile. I regarded her with wide eyes as I bought my legs up onto the bench and curled into myself protectively. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She added gently as he assessed my defensive behaviour and I made a concentrated effort to slow my breathing following the initial jolt of panic.
She shrugged casually at my lack of response and instead turned her attention to the tray of food in front of her. We sat in silence whilst she ate and I got the impression that she was giving me a chance to decide whether I was going to stay or scarper to safety. I was appreciative of the reprieve in conversation, but also surprised to find that she didn't seem at all frustrated by my silence. She pondered me with a sympathetic expression and I couldn't help wondering what she wanted from me. I hadn't noticed her face before and I was sure that I hadn't done anything to draw her attention. She pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder in a distracted gesture and her kind eyes sparkled with wisdom as she seemed to be analysing me. There was something about her demeanour that felt familiarly calming and she seemed completely at ease within the confines of the prison.
"You're Cassidy, right?" She enquired warmly and I furrowed my brow at her. "The guards told me." She explained with a shrug and I felt my heart skip a beat. "I'm Stacey. I watch out for people here, especially the newbies; I'm basically the lockup mum." She scoffed, as she examined me with interest and I clenched my jaw reflectively. I couldn't imagine why the guards would send someone who intended to take care of me and was suspicious that this was another ploy to make me speak.
"You don't have to be so nervous. I've heard the stories that they tell about lockup, that it's filled with the worst scourge of the Ark, dangerous criminals that would stab you just as quickly as look at you. The truth is that it's mostly just kids who had little choice in their crimes. We're all here because we did what it took to survive. Don't get me wrong; there are definitely some dangerous people here, but most are just normal kids. So you can stop sitting here expecting to die at any moment." She teased with a wink and I shuffled awkwardly, uncertain how to respond to the sudden interest. We sat in silence for a few minutes longer whilst she ate, before she returned her attention to me with a sigh. "Look, kid. I don't know your story, all they told me was your name. I just came over because you've been here for weeks and I haven't seen you talk to a single person. I've hardly even seen you eat and you don't look like you're sleeping either. I remember what it's like to end up here, it's a shock. Whatever happened to you has already happened. Now you've gotta keep living." She advised in a well practiced manner and I stared back at her in bewilderment. It was clear that she had supported several inmates in their transition to lockup life and although I was still cautious, I hoped that she could help me too.
Over the coming days, I learned to expect the consistent appearance of Stacey at my table every lunch time. I'd noticed that she rotated around people throughout the day and I could easily recognise that she was serious about her self declared title as the prison mother. It was obvious that people were able to relax whilst in her company and I'd even witnessed her breakup fights before they escalated enough for the guards to intervene. Throughout her time with me, I always remained silent and she gradually filled me in on the inmates that I needed to avoid. There weren't many that she considered to be dangerous, but I was glad to be able to identify them. This knowledge gave me the slightest hint of safety that I had been craving. Most of the time, she simply chatted about the importance of retaining a sense of normality and imparted useful tips that she'd picked up in her time here. It was comforting to simply enjoy her presence, even if I wasn't able to trust her enough to speak.
Stacey happily chatted away whilst I picked at the contents of my tray that could almost be described as food. Things were relaxed and comfortable in a way that only happened when she was around and despite my suspicions, I tried to appreciate the time for what it was. I jolted upright as I caught the sound of raised voices and Stacey turned sharply in her seat to investigate what was causing the commotion. She reluctantly raised to her feet and met my eyes with an apologetic smile.
"I have to deal with this. Be right back." She stated as she strode over to several boys who had crowded together. I quickly tore my gaze away in fear that they might notice I was watching and involve me.
As I scanned the crowded cafeteria my gaze was drawn to an inmate who I had noticed a few times before already. He was tall and slender, with medium length chestnut brown hair that was loosely pushed back. His face was chiseled, with sharp cheekbones and striking blue eyes. I had regularly observed him causing some kind of scene in the common areas of lockup and he seemed to enjoy the act of gaining an audience. There was a certain arrogance in the way that he strode around that should be off putting, but somehow it was strangely attractive. Even though he wore the same combat trousers, dark t-shirt and black bomber jacket that most of us owned, there was something more alternative about the way that he modelled them. There were several patches of his jacket that were studded, including a bright red section on his shoulder and I noted several other details that indicated a hint of punk in his style that I was admittedly impressed by.
I was pulled from my thoughts when Stacey took a seat opposite me again with a sigh. I tried to dart my eyes away, but I knew from the smirk that she wore as she addressed me that she had already caught me staring.
"You spend a lot of time watching him for someone who is so determined to isolate themselves." She commented in a suggestive tone and I tried to hide my embarrassment behind my hair. She peeked over her shoulder at the boy in question and I followed her line of sight. He was surrounded by a small crowd who clearly supported his antics as they chuckled loudly in encouragement.
"That's Murphy." Stacey informed as she returned to facing me, her brow quirked at me with a devilish curiosity. "He's a bit of a hothead and most of the time behaves like a douche, but he's pretty much harmless." She confirmed with a sly smile and I listened keenly to any information that I could gain on him. "I don't know what he's here for. He likes to tell stories and his humour is too sharp to get any actual information out of him. He's been here long enough that I've learned not to be fooled by his act. He's all bark and no bite unless you really go for him." She revealed and I wasn't sure why I felt relieved at this information. "Although...you look like you want to go for him." She suggested with a wink and I shook my head vigorously as my cheeks burned with heat. "Right, of course. My mistake." She drawled with a smug smile and I bit my lip nervously.
- O - O - O - O - O -
Days turned into weeks and I hadn't seen any sign of Stacey anywhere in lockup. It was bizarre for her to suddenly disappear and I couldn't deny that I was unnerved by her absence. My time in the common areas was substantially harder without her warm company and I hardly managed to relax at all. The visits from Abby were fortunately frequent and she filled me in on the activities at the clinic in an effort to keep me connected with the rest of the Ark, between her desperate requests that I confess to the guards. I maintained the exhausting resolve to keep the secret, despite being pulled into interrogation by the guards at least once a week. Abby ensured me that my father was being adequately cared for and asserted that she was working night and day to get me released, both of which were a massive factor in keeping my sanity in check.
It was weeks before I overheard another inmate confirm that Stacey had been floated and it seemed from her lack of goodbyes that she had expected to be pardoned. I was devastated by her loss and couldn't deny a feeling that she didn't deserve to meet this end after the care that she had continually given to others in her time here.
Over the coming days I noticed that the atmosphere within lockup changed. The inmates gathered into small gangs in an effort to protect themselves and there was a serious increase in the conflict between them. I witnessed more arguments that rapidly escalated into fights and regularly caught sight of people crying, or having emotional outbursts in the halls. It became painfully clear that Stacey had been responsible for the balance of the prisoners and I realised that the others were never as well adjusted as I had first believed.
I mentioned the growing chaos in passing during a conversation with Abby and a few days later she arrived with some basic art supplies. It was a struggle to contain tears of joy as I took them back to my cell and lost myself in the safety of sketching. It was substantially easier to pass my silent time now that I had this distraction and the next few weeks flew past without my notice.
By the next visit from Abby, I had finally started to adjust to the routine of lockup and silence became a lifestyle for me. I sat quietly on the cold seat of the visitation room, whilst she detailed the events of her days and listened with a warm appreciation.
"Your father is doing well. As a matter of fact, he's in remission and I've been able to change him to another medication that's showing very promising results." She reported in a bright voice and I smiled gratefully. "Unfortunately, I still haven't been able to convince him to visit you. He says that his heart couldn't manage it and honestly, I'm worried it might send him into a depressive episode." She sighed with regret and I nodded slowly in acknowledgement. Although I missed him more than anything, the last thing that I wanted was to cause him to relapse. "I can tell where you get your stubbornness from." She added as she smiled at me fondly and I chucked quietly under my breath.
I appreciated this comment more than she could ever know, as I treasured the quiet strength that I shared with my father. He was a man of little words, but I only felt that it made the things he did say all the more profound. My mother had always been frustrated by our similarity and had little appreciation for his unquestionable durability, even in the face of a chronic illness that he would never be able to escape. She often called me a dormouse and expressed her disappointment in my lack of character. I considered it likely that I'd developed my reserved nature because there was no room for anything other than background characters in my mother's one man show and instead developed a pride in the traits that I had in common with my father.
Abby sat in silence for a few minutes longer as she considered her next words carefully.
"Cassidy, I wish that you would just tell me what happened. I know in my heart that you don't deserve to be here. Please, help me to prove that. Whoever it is that you're trying to protect, it isn't worth it. I'm the only visitor that you've had in all of this time. I asked the guards and they said that you don't even receive any post! Whoever asked you to do this, they've left you here without any concern for you, sweetheart." Abby's appeal was passionate and filled with emotion as her pleading eyes met mine. I battled to keep the upset from my face as I knitted my hands together and clenched my jaw. It was painful to witness the care that she addressed me with and only exacerbated my longing for the motherly love that I had been deprived for so many years. "You really are your father's daughter." She sighed in disappointment and I shrugged at her as I sniffed back tears.
When I returned to my cell I felt drained from enduring another of Abby's grillings and spent some time sketching to calm myself. I had always shared my love of art with my father, after he taught me to draw as a child in an effort to encourage some self expression out of me. Whilst my mother berated my quietness, he invested time into directing it as he introduced me to creativity. We read books together in the evenings, when my mother would leave to pursue her strangely bustling social life and he spent countless hours assisting me to develop my sketch techniques. I suspected that as his sickness left him restricted to our quarters often, he encouraged my interests out of a desire for company, but I didn't mind as it was ideal for my naturally introverted personality.
I became so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even realise what I was drawing until my focus returned and I was met with a painfully familiar set of eyes. I sighed at the details of the piece that confirmed I had committed every part of this person to memory well enough to replicate.
During my time at medical, I had grown close to one particular senior named Cian. It had been a gradual process, as we studied together late into the night and I bought him coffee for the early shifts to demonstrate my commitment. At first, our relationship was purely professional as I strived to learn as much from him as possible and worked unbelievable amounts of overtime in an effort to stand out from the other juniors. It wasn't until one evening, long past the clinic closing, when only the two of us remained that he revealed he had chosen to study medicine to care for his sick mother and we talked late into the night about our similar goals to help the underprivileged.
I had never met anyone who I could speak so authentically with and I felt understood in a way that was foreign to me. He confided in me that he was working on a project to provide medication to those in need and it wasn't long until my admiration developed into infatuation. Between the longing looks and awkward accidental touches, we managed to gather a small team of interns to breathe life into his dream. I didn't even have to consider it when he asked me to make a delivery for him and I relished in feeling that I was making a difference.
Lifting my hand from the jarring piece of art, I found that I had ink splotches all over the side and decided that I needed a distraction. I used my allotted time in the bathroom and returned to my cell to try to calm my gravity defying hair. Glancing in the mirror at my long, thin face, I adjusted the detailed ring that sat between my nostrils, dangling just above my thick, plump lips. With a frustrated sigh, I made a brief effort to shape my thick black brows but there was little that I'd ever been able to do to tame them.
After a wash, my locks were always wildly volumised and the colour seemed even more vivid than usual. As a result of an intense treatment and drug detox that my mother had endured whilst pregnant, my hair was a strange mix of black and green that no one had ever been able to explain. Those close to me found it endearingly hilarious and over the years I'd learned to ignore the stares of others. The tips brushed against my jaw in an irritating way and I had to constantly push it out of my deeply earth brown eyes. My father had always described me with doe eyes as they were large, inquisitive and surrounded by thick long lashes that I batted coyly when I wanted something.
I crossed the room to grab my worn out black jumper and slid it on over the black tank that I had been wearing, feeling the cold thanks to my damp hair. As I slipped into the sleeves I took a moment to appreciate the multiple tattoos that littered my cool, fawn skin and was glad that I had been able to convince the artists on Argo to decorate my body with my sketches. After multiple sessions, they had even taught me to tattoo and the result was several small doodles in places that I could reach.
Flopping onto the poor excuse for a bed, I sighed at the ceiling as I reflected on Abby's words. She was correct that I hadn't heard from anyone involved in the deliveries that led to my arrest, not even Cian, but I reassured myself that they were unable to due to suspicion. My only wish was that they had been honest with me from the start and I felt sympathetic as I imagined the guilt that Cian must carry for the results. I knew that he wouldn't ever purposely risk my safety and swore that once the guards lost interest in pushing me, he would get in touch.
- O - O - O - O - O -
I hadn't received a visit from Abby in weeks and although I'd sent a few letters, I suspected that the guards might have intercepted them. Anxiety grew unchecked in my mind, convincing me that I had upset her and although I was confident that she would continue to care for my father, I couldn't quash the fear that her continued absence caused.
With little remaining options, I decided to write to my father for an explanation and after a few days of relentless terror, I received a response that stunned me to the core. He confirmed that he was still receiving the medication that he needed, but revealed that Jake Griffin had been floated for treason and Clarke had been imprisoned as an accomplice.
My heart broke for Abby and I spent countless sleepless nights worrying about how she was coping. I searched every wing of lockup that I could access and was unable to find any trace of Clarke. Eventually, I discovered that she had been placed in solitary confinement for her own protection, as was offered to me and I managed to convince a guard to pass a note to her. I kept the message brief, simply stating that I was sorry she had ended up here too and that I was thinking of her. Even if I couldn't support her, I hoped that knowing she had a friend inside would provide her with even a slight degree of comfort.
- O - O - O - O - O -
6 months had passed since the day that my life ended and silence no longer felt alien to me. I was stunned that the guards were still grilling me for answers and seemed more determined than ever to bust the group responsible for the deliveries. The interrogations gradually became less frequent as they tired of asking the same questions and hoped they realised that I wasn't as intimidated by these sessions as I had been in the beginning.
I had settled into the clockwork routines of incarceration completely and although I was lonely, I kept myself distracted. The visitation from Abby had become a rarity and I had started to receive occasional letter from my father. The remainder of my time was spent sketching from my table in the corner of the canteen and though I had watched several prisoners come and go, none had ever attempted to talk to me since Stacey. Sometimes I felt like an outsider, but on the whole that suited me fine.
Positioned in my usual seat, I filled a page with small doodles and as I worked on a sunshine with intense concentration, I was abruptly interrupted by a deep voice as someone cleared their throat right above me. I started in my seat and tore my eyes up from the page to find the intimidating stature of Murphy studying me with interest. My breath caught in anticipation as I waited for him to speak and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.
"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" He drawled with a brow raised at me suggestively and I stared back at him in wide eyed shock. I darted my gaze to either side of me to check that there wasn't anyone else that he could be addressing. Once I'd been satisfied that he was definitely speaking to me, I returned to face him to find that he was observing my doubt with amusement. In the absence of any kind of witty comeback, I simply slowly shrugged at him and he scoffed.
"Got nothing, huh?" He commented and much to my horror, he casually dropped himself into the seat opposite me. "Murphy." He stated with a confident nod at me and my stomach lurched with anxiety as he waited expectantly for a response. I'd become so accustomed to silence that I'd practically forgotten how to speak to anyone other than Abby and I couldn't find my voice in the face of such an unexpected interaction. After several moments of awkward silence, Murphy finally sighed.
"Okay, what's your deal? You've been here for months and you haven't spoken to anyone. No one in this joint even knows your name. How does that happen?" He interrogated with a state of disbelief and I shuffled awkwardly under his gaze. I couldn't imagine why he would care and it was bizarre for him to approach me with no obvious reason. He examined me with frustration evident behind his cool exterior and I gulped nervously, expecting an outburst from him at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak again, when a couple of inmates surrounded us and one slammed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry man, that's time. You lose." The stranger commented and Murphy hissed in frustration. As I examined them, I realised that I'd often seen these two guys hanging around with him and it was clear that there was a playful familiarity that barely covered the tension I could sense between them.
"I told you bro. She's mute. Not even you can get her to speak, Romeo." The other inmate was obnoxiously loud and addressed Murphy with a mocking nickname that he was clearly unappreciative of. I flinched at his grating voice as he fussed around Murphy, who stood in a sharp, irritable movement to face the waiting boys.
"Don't get used to winning." He threatened as he handed over something too quickly for me to make out. The two others rushed off with hyena-like laughter, but Murphy hesitated on the spot. He glanced down at the doodles in front of me with an interested smile before his eyes roamed their way back to my face. "See you around, Sunshine." He remarked with a wink before he strode away, leaving me in a state of disbelief.