The Kid stood with five others in the processing area, his legs shackled but his hands free. He couldn't suppress a start at the loud bang and flash as his photo was taken. He blinked several times to get the stars out of his vision and when he could finally see again, the amused smirk on the photographer's face set his teeth on edge. He was prodded up against the wall as another prisoner took his place. After all six of them had been blinded by the photographer, they were made to line up with one hand on the shoulder of the man in front of them and then marched into another room. This one was cold and damp and the smell very similar to wet dog or skunk made the Kid's eyes water. There were buckets of water lined up against the walls.
"Strip!"
"What?" The Kid glared at the guard who had prodded him and tried to step back but was held in a tight grip.
"You heard me! Strip!"
The guard reached out to grab the Kid who shoved him without really thinking about it. A heavy thump in his stomach doubled him over, leaving him gasping. He took a steadying breath before straightening up slowly. His inner voice of reason, which unsurprisingly sounded a lot like Heyes, advised him to cool it. With some effort he wrestled his anger down and obediently started to remove his upper clothing.
He did so slowly and deliberately, determined not to give up too much ground, but he was careful to be just quick enough to avoid the guard getting too annoyed. After he was bare chested, one guard removed his ankle restraints while another held him in a tight grip. "Lift your leg! But you try and kick me..." He trailed off and slapped the Kid between his legs on his upper thighs meaningfully with an expression on his face that left no doubt of what he meant. The Kid shivered involuntarily earning a smug grin from the man. "Now I know you read them rules while you were waiting, so they oughta be fresh in your mind. No talking!"
The Kid nodded with his jaw tight and endured having the rest of his clothes removed as the other prisoners suffered the same degrading experience. The man finally finished and stood back. The Kid kept his eyes down not out of fear, but to hide the rage that he knew was clear in his face.
His skin was covered in goosebumps and he shook slightly, which had as much to do with the anger and humiliation coursing through him, as it did with the chilled air he stood in. His breath was coming out in heavy puffs as his heart thudded loud against his ribs while he compulsively clenched and unclenched his fists. He'd foolishly thought he'd found some measure of acceptance of his fate, but here and now he was desperately unsure he'd be able to make it through even a day of this, let alone eight years.
He was restrained between two guards as a third bent down to pick up one of the buckets. The impact of the cold water stole his breath and left him gasping and shivering, with his chest feeling bruised. He couldn't move out of the way of the torment and a red mist crept slowly across his vision, eventually drowning out everything except the need to react. He pulled out of the tight grip on his arms and lunged for the man holding the bucket, yanking it out of his hands, even as the rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop. It was only minutes before he was restrained face down on his stomach with one of the guards kneeling on his back. His head was pulled painfully back as the man he'd tried to attack grinned at him. "Well that just earnt you at least a week in solitary."
The anger drained away from him in a rush, leaving him exhausted and sore with a strange heaviness in his arms and legs. As he lay there, the reality of his situation settling on him. He saw Heyes clearly in his mind, his expression both disapproving and worried. "You're going to have to learn to choose your battles, Kid. Ain't no point letting them get to you like this, or you aren't never going to get out of here."
Too exhausted to react beyond moving when he was told to, he endured the process of being forcibly dressed in a striped uniform quietly. The strange lethargy even lasted through his head being shaved.
After the torment was over, still more than a little dazed, he was taken in the opposite direction to the other prisoners, where he was pushed with little ceremony into inky blackness. He flinched at the sound of a door slamming shut behind him before slumping almost boneless against the wall at his back. He slid down the cold stone to sit on the damp floor.
His head was cold and sore and as he swept a cautious hand over the now bare skin his eyes burned and he had to bite his lip to stop tears falling. In amongst all the other loss being shaved should have been a minor thing, but instead it seemed almost overwhelming. He forced himself to stop touching the roughened skin by sitting on his hands and instead focussed on controlling the despair that was threatening to become overpowering.
With a massive effort he found a level of calm and scrambled to his feet to explore his new surroundings. Navigating slowly by touch he found the door and a bunk against a wall. Carefully he walked in a straight line from the bunk until he hit the other wall and sat down. He stretched out his arms and found that here his hands touched the walls on either side. From this exploration he worked out that the space was barely six foot all square. His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes as the darkness soaked into his bones.
He eventually slept as the silence and darkness left him nothing else to do, but he was dragged awake gasping for breath. He'd dreamt of watching helplessly, too far away to help, as Heyes disappeared into a raging river. He'd dived into the water in a desperate attempt to find him, but instead had been caught in the current himself. With his heart pounding in his ears he swallowed back a yelp as he felt something brush past his feet. He quickly moved his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. He had no sense of how long had passed as he had nothing to mark time and closed his eyes again. He didn't sleep, but instead drifted in memories of happier times.
A metal clang from where he knew the door to be, pulled him out of his strange trance as a tiny crack of light entered the gloom. "Come and get your food, prisoner, be quick or the rats will get it! The Kid stood carefully as he heard something slam shut as the light vanished.
The meal consisted of musty tasting water and dry bread, but the Kid ate it gratefully. Not sure when he'd have the opportunity to eat again.
The Kid didn't know how long it'd been when they finally pulled him out of the darkness. The gloomy light of the corridor hurt his eyes and his skin itched, but he was annoyingly relieved at finally seeing and hearing another soul for more than a few seconds.
Ensuring that the metal bit into his skin through the thin material, the guards re-shackled him. As he was marched down the corridor they seemed to take pleasure in yanking him off balance. But he stayed calm despite the harassment, keeping to the resolution he'd made, sitting in the dank dark. He took some satisfaction in that fact that the guards were no doubt disappointed.
He realised it must be late evening, because the other prisoners were all present in the block and he felt them look at him curiously as he passed their cells.
At the end of the corridor his escorts pulled him to a stop at a barred door. Peering into the gloom he could see the shape of a bunk bed against the wall on the left. A man scrambled to his feet from the bottom bunk and stood. "Your new cellmate Jake, Prisoner 83. Now don't let us catch you talking or you know where you'll both end up." The Kid's shackles were removed before he was pushed in, stumbling as the door slammed behind him.
He and Jake eyed each other uneasily, until the other man winked at the Kid and with a quick glance to make sure no-one was listening said softly. "If you don't snore, it'll be kinda nice having some company again."
The Kid let himself breathe more easily and looked longingly at the bunk, despite how uncomfortable it looked. He climbed carefully up the rickety ladder and lay down on the thin mattress, pulling the threadbare blanket around him. His limbs felt heavy with exhaustion despite him sleeping for much of his time in solitary.
He drifted into sleep quite quickly, but his dreams were uneasy and he awoke early enough that the block was still silent. Taking advantage of the small amount of light from the tiny window high up on the wall, he shuffled onto his side and glanced down at his cellmate. He looked about ten maybe fifteen years older than the Kid. A bushy grizzled grey beard covering his chin and it was clear even in the minimal light, that his skin was paper thin and waxy pale, with his eyes marked by heavy lines. He stirred slightly as if conscious of the Kid's gaze but didn't waken and eventually the Kid drifted back to sleep.
Sometime later a heavy banging on the bars of their cell woke them both with a start. The Kid tried to remember the rules he'd read more than a week before, but his mind was so clouded he couldn't dredge up the information. Jake obviously seeing his difficulty quickly folded his bedding neatly which allowed the Kid to follow on.
They were marched out with the rest of their block, but the Kid was yanked out of line before he got any breakfast. He was so hungry that he felt sick and glared at the man who hauled him out. "Warden wants to see you!"
Warden Manley was a thin sandy haired man with a narrow face, long sideburns and a moustache that the Kid thought really didn't look like it belonged on his face. "Well, Prisoner 83 it seems you have caused quite a commotion when you arrived. I do not wish to see this behaviour repeated." He glanced past the Kid to let his gaze rest on the men standing on either side of him before adding carefully. "I am of course aware of both your name and reputation outside these walls, but it is only your behaviour and general demeanour inside them that will determine how you are treated.
The Kid felt this was directed as much at the guards as it was him and felt a twinge of gratitude. Although he was not foolish enough to believe everyone else would feel the same way. In fact the quickly smothered smirk on the guard to his left suggested fairly strongly that at least one of his escorts felt very differently.