A/N: IJ - Good question. Let's find out, shall we?
Ryder:
It has been sheer madness since the day I was arrested and booked into the Men's Central Jail.
I tried to get my parents to bail me out, but the bond amount had been set to a ridiculous three million dollars. With none of my relatives having any idea how to raise that kind of money, I had been forced to stay in jail. My trial had been set for the next year, which means that I would have to spend the entire year here waiting. It's all that stupid bitch's fault I'm in here. If she had not humiliated me in front of the whole school in the first place, none of these would have happened.
I swear the wardens here have it out for me, courtesy of that Vega cop. I have been forced to shave my head to make sure I can't hide anything in my hair, accused of having contraband without any rhyme or reason to have officers trash my cell multiple times, and forced to strip in front of all other prisoners repeatedly. The worst part is having to bend over and cough so my bottom can be inspected. Is this an abuse of power? Maybe I can complain about this to my lawyer the next time we meet.
Speaking about my lawyer: He says he's not optimistic about the long list of charges I would be fighting in court. But I think it's ridiculous they would add attempted rape to the list, considering I never actually did anything to that dumb dyke. Assault and battery seems like trumped up allegations as well, since I didn't even hit her with my hands. It was just a slap in self-defense after she attacked my nose with her foot. I am just going to plead not guilty to all of these. I think I can flash a winning smile to the jury to try to get them on my side, just like what I usually do with those girls from school.
The inmates here are all huge and scary, and one of them has started calling me "sweetie" a few days ago. I'm trying to avoid him since I don't think I want to find out more about the "little chat" he said he wanted to have with me in his cell.
There's an awards program showing on the screen in the common room, and I think I hear a familiar voice coming from the tv above the sound of the prisoners cheering loudly. I managed to find a spot to stand on one of the benches, and I can't believe my eyes. Tori Vega, on international TV?! Singing the opening act for the Platinum Music Awards?! How is that even... possible?!
That does it. I can't take this unfair bullshit anymore. As I'm stomping my way back to my cell to fume over all this crap, I feel a strong grip on my arm.
Oh shit, it's that huge inmate I've been trying to hide from.
"Sweetie, going somewhere?"