Author's Note: I'm seriously taken aback by the response to this story! I am one of those people who like the jail niche a little too much. I need to watch every Lockdown episode, Jail episode, Locked Up episode, Breakout Kings episode, Prison Break episode—it's unhealthy. Glad to see people seem to like it in story format!
Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, made this story a favorite, and/or put this story and/or me on alert. Thank you so much. It really made me get to writing faster! I am really excited for where this story is going to go, and I hope you enjoy the ride as much as me.
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Disclaimer: I don't own any of it! Anything you recognize belongs to Stephanie Meyer.
"My name is Bella Swan, and I'm your new warden."
The roars of laughter, angry and confused voices, and the rattling of bars made me smirk. These boys weren't expecting their next warden be a 5'4" petite female. The prevalent sound was laughter, but I'd take care of that quickly.
Nodding back to the security desk, I signaled for them to sound the alarm again. The place quickly became quiet.
"Now if you'd get over your shock, I'd like to tell you a bit about myself," I announced to the general population.
"I'd like to see a little more of yourself," I heard a voice yell.
"You keep that up, you won't be seeing much of anything in segregation," I retorted. I'd been doing this long enough—I knew how to play the game. I could dish it as well as I could take it.
"Now, as I was saying. You guys heard about those reforms at San Quentin and Rikers?" These were two of the toughest prisons in the world.
The noise level skyrocketed again. Although the majority of these guys have been locked up for a while, gossip spreads like wildfire throughout prisons. With multiple transfers, new inmates, and visits, the prison system has its own form of a grapevine, and inmates know everything that is going on throughout the hardcore prison system.
"I take it you have," I chuckled loudly, my laughter only serving to irritate most of the inmates. The alarm sounded again, forcing them to quiet down. Seems people are already learning their jobs around here.
"Those were done by me. I was briefly warden at both of those prisons, before I decided I'd rather be a little closer to home, and you all get me here at Washington State Penitentiary," I informed them. "So, you can expect to see those types of reforms here. I don't take any shit and I don't give a fuck what the hell you throw at me, I'm here to do my job. On that note, I'm going to get to it. I'll see you boys later. Don't go anywhere!"
With those last words, I turned on my heel and walked out of gen pop, only allowing my grin to fully form when I was buzzed through the locked door and on the other side of a thousand enraged inmates. I probably should've resisted taunting them at the end there—I can hear their displeasure through the thick glass, and I can only imagine how loud it must be in there. Oh well. These guys committed the crimes; they need to be reminded of that once in a while.
I began the long and very well-secured journey back to my office, lost in my thoughts. Perhaps my view of criminals is too jaded, but if you walked in my shoes and if you have seen what I've seen, you'd feel the same way. I know somewhere deep down that there has to be a few innocent souls somewhere inside of these walls, but I have to squash those thoughts. If I believe that, if I even let myself start trying to find them, I won't be able to do my job effectively. I won't be able to be the best warden I can be.
It's hard to see any of these guys as good. I have a very long, dark, and upsetting past with the law and criminals, that I just can't let myself see any of these guys as anything but my father's killer.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was eighteen, and just finishing up my first year of living with my father. I moved back to Forks, Washington to live with him after my Mom remarried. I thought the newlyweds needed their space, and I wanted to give it to them. Besides, I had missed my father. After a year of living with him, in which I didn't really spend much time with him because I was dazzled with many issues in my personal life, I finally got my wits about me a little bit before my high school graduation. Dad and I were getting closer, and when I graduated from high school, he decided not to take me to the local diner, or even to Port Angeles, but he took me to the best Italian restaurant in Seattle.
We were halfway through the main course when gunfire rang out through the restaurant. At least Charlie, my Dad, knew was it was. He quickly pushed me under the table, before standing back up. I grabbed his arm and begged him to stay under there with me—he wasn't even armed. But he had to be the hero that I never knew he was, because I never really gave him the time of day.
I don't know what happened, because my view was blocked from that side of the restaurant, as I stayed hidden—praying the knowledge of me being safe would help my Dad. From what I was told later, Dad tried to talk the man down, who was angry at his ex-wife and brother for being on a date with each other. He had shot them both, and was contemplating shooting others in the restaurant since they had seen his face.
Sirens were heard outside the restaurant right when Dad was making progress, and it spooked the gunman. He shot my father, before running through the restaurant right by me, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his face. He darted through the kitchen door, and then out of the back entrance of the restaurant.
He was apprehended a block away, but I will never be able to get the image of his face out of my mind.
Plopping down at my new desk in my office, I continued my thoughts. A day didn't go by where I didn't think of that night, and I couldn't figure out why Dad didn't just take me to the diner which was his favorite place. Is it because of my cold words that one night where I repeated what Renee, my mother, had told him years ago? Is it because I made it sound like eating cobbler at the diner was my least favorite thing in the world?
It wasn't good enough for me that the man was caught and sentenced to life in prison for killing a police officer, and two others, though sadly I rarely thought of them. I wanted to see that life in prison wasn't comfortable for him. I didn't want him to be a big shot for killing an officer, getting whatever he wanted from other inmates, and being leader of the pack, so to speak. I didn't want guards to forget what that man did, and I didn't want them to allow him to live in the utmost comfort. Forgoing college, though I missed the deadlines to apply during senior year anyway, I immediately enlisted in the Police Academy, and somehow graduated with flying colors. I don't know what happened to the girl who was out-of-shape and klutzy, but I can only assume she died that day in the restaurant.
After graduating from the Police Academy, I debated following in my father's footsteps and becoming a police officer, but I couldn't stop my mind from running wild with the thoughts of how that man was living in prison. I became a correctional officer in Florida State Prison, leaving behind everything I knew in Washington, and everyone I had once known. It's not like I had friends anymore anyway. I pushed most of them away, and then some pushed me away. I decided to be closer to my Mom and Phil in Florida, even though my Mom vehemently disapproved of my new job. She didn't want me be involved in such a dangerous profession, especially after what happened to my Dad.
She never supported it, but my mother's disapproval wasn't going to stop me. I took self-defense classes, kick boxing, karate, and anything else I could fit into my downtime when I wasn't working. I had no social life, but it wasn't much of a change from life before Florida. Everything ended up paying off, as the Warden retired and recommended me to take his place. It was an extreme shock to everyone in the building, including me, but I couldn't turn it down.
I quickly made my name known throughout the prison system, as I fixed many of the problems that were wrong inside this prison. I was transferred to Rikers, as they thought my services and reform plans could be used inside of their gates. After fixing things there, I was transferred to San Quentin, where I did the same. Finally, I decided I'd had enough of running from my past and my problems, and I wanted to be face to face with the man who committed the heinous crime against my family. I always had an eye on Washington State Penitentiary, constantly hoping for a job opening. Even if it was as a correctional officer, I'd take it. Color me surprised when a few weeks ago the job as warden opened up.
I took it without a second thought, both wanting to be closer to the memory of my father, and wanting to confront the man who killed him.
I knew he was sitting somewhere in segregation right now, having been involved in a scuffle with another inmate in the yard. But I'd meet him eventually.
"Warden Swan," my receptionist pulled me away from my thoughts. I shook my head to clear them—I had a job to do. I looked up at her, and realized I really should learn her name.
"Yes, K…."
"Katie," She supplied.
"Katie," I affirmed, with a nod to my head. I should be nice to the girl. She had nothing to do with that night. "Please, call me Bella."
"I was just wondering if you'd like to see some of the files Warden. Maybe learn about some of the people here? Or maybe you'd like the get straight to paperwork. I know we have a few new inmates coming tomorrow and a couple of ours are transferring out," She rambled, clearly nervous.
I didn't want her to feel that way. I was a hard ass with the inmates, but I didn't need to be that way in the rest of my life. Although I shut everyone out and had very, very few friends, that didn't mean I was mean to everyone I came in contact with.
"That would be great Katie, thank you," I sent her a tiny smile, my cheek muscles straining with the foreign activity.
"Code Blue, we have a Code Blue in the yard of Cell Block A. I repeat, Code Blue."
The sound came over the walkie talkie stationed on my desk. I rolled my eyes before standing up, ready to make my way out to the scene of the crime.
"What are you doing?" Katie screeched, having guessed my intent.
"My job," I responded, heading toward the door.
"No you're not," She told me, gulping when she saw the menacing glare I sent her way.
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow at her small body blocking the door. It would only take me a second to move her out of my way.
"That i-isn't y-your job ma'am," Katie stuttered. "Let's see if the COs can do their jobs before you rush out there. You know how many of them would love to get their hands on you."
I stared her down, analyzing her slowly. I could tell she had my best interests at heart, even though she barely knew me.
I gave her a slight nod, stifling a smile when she breathed out a huge sigh of relief.
I need to remember that I'm not a CO. I'm a female warden in one of the state's worst male prisons. I needed to take better care of myself. If not for me, then for my Dad.
"Disregard Code Blue. The situation is under control."
I picked up my walkie talkie, not satisfied with that answer.
"This is Warden Swan," I articulated firmly over the radio. "What were the circumstances?"
It took a minute or two, before one of the many guards on this frequency finally gave me what I wanted to hear. "Uh, miss, we don't really know what started it, but the fight involved one of our more hot-headed inmates. We're taking him to isolation."
"No," I responded negatively back over to him, glancing up to see Katie giving me a questioning look.
"Ma'am?" The voice questioned through the static of the radio.
"Bring 'em to my office, one at a time. Start with the calmer one," I ordered.
"What? That's not what we usually do around here."
"Who am I speaking to?"
"Officer Johns, miss," The man replied, finally giving me a face to his name.
"Well Officer Johns, I'm here to see that things change in this shit hole. So how about you march your ass to my office first, and then have someone else escort the two prisoners here, one at a time from their cells. For now, lock 'em up, so I can deal with you."
"But war-."
"You heard me. That was an order. I don't want to hear your voice again until you're in my office."
I slammed the walkie talkie down on the desk, annoyed with the fact that I not only had to show the inmates who is boss, but the officers as well.
"Bella?" Katie questioned.
"You can just set all of that paperwork in my inbox for now Katie. Seems like I have a subordinate to deal with as well as a couple of fighting inmates, and we're only an hour into my day. It might be a while before I get to it."
With that, I collapsed into my cushioned seat, waiting for Officer Johns to appear in front of me, followed by my first two inmates I'll be meeting one-on-one. To top it off, it sounds like one of them gets into fights often. Well, if you want to fix a place, you needed to start with the biggest problems first.
Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Also, shameless plug: If you haven't, please read my other story "Whatever Will Be, Will Be"! It's also a Paul/Bella, but the plot is much, much different. I will always be updating the stories at the same time—that way I can't play favorites (even though I don't have one). So if one gives me a tough time, I will use the motivation to post the other to push through!
