When a prison is on lockdown it means that no one left their cells. But in these cells, with the smell of some other man's shit that had once been spread on the walls, or who knows what else, it could drive a man to insanity. Seth sat on the hard stone bed, the prison issued mat was nothing but thin material that didn't count at a mattress. Seth sat and stared at the door, his hands resting on his knees. But in the Hole, well it was a different matter.
Beyond the cemented walls there were the occasional banging from the men that were also in AD-SEG, or administrative segregation. But to the inmates it was called The Hole. Still, it was considerably quieter than what general population was.
Seth replayed what had happened in his head about what went down after they took out Soft in his cell. And the cloths line that Seth received from one John Cena. The back of Seth's head connected with the hard steel of the range, knocking him out almost on contact. He didn't know what happened to either Reigns or Ambrose after the attack. Hell, he didn't know if Soft was still breathing or stone cold stiff at that moment. All that Seth knew was waking up in the infirmary with a nurse tending to his head. And not the sexy kind.
Big Bertha was an older black woman who worked in the prison infirmary. Some guys joked that she was the oldest resident there. And not the sexiest of people to wake up to putting stitches in his head.
"Do you want to tell me how this happened?" She asked, her calm demeanor showing up. Gorgeous not in looks, but she had a personality of a saint when dealing with unruly inmates, that's what Seth knew.
"The range jumped up and attacked me out of nowhere." He had responded, closing his eyes.
And because of cut backs they didn't give him at least some sort of pain killer for the headache he had received. After he had been cleared from the infirmary, Seth was brought back to The Hole where the one man cells were waiting for him. If Reigns or Ambrose were there, he didn't see them.
But then again, Roman didn't see Seth after some of the COs had hauled him off. Cena, after knocking out Seth had gone straight after Dean, who was covered in Soft's blood. Not that Ambrose cared. No, that was the kind of man Dean was. Uncaring and uncontrolling. Cena and Dean finally had that fist fight that the two had been rearing for, for so long it had built up to that. At least Cena had it coming.
Roman was in his own cell in the AD-SEG unit. Actually he had seen Seth get escorted in by the guards. Roman could see the bandages that covered at least the top right side of his face, but he looked out of it. Cena, yeah he was a big muscular man, bigger than any of the other slightly overweight guards on duty at the Penn but Cena was a CO that was in every right capable of handling an onslaught. But Dean, oh Dean had been waiting for the chance to strike out at Cena. And as Roman paced his four by nine cell like a caged tiger, his thoughts went from his gang friends to his family, namely his daughter.
A rather large thud could be heard two cells down from him. Roman stopped pacing and looked out of the small cell window. That's when he heard the slur of profanities streaming out of Cell 5, him being in Cell 3. It was Dean. Of course it had to be Dean.
"Come on you, mother fuckers!" He hollered, but there was no banging. "I dare you, Cena. Come back here, you fucker. Come back here!"
Cena passed Roman's cell, that damn smirk gracing his lips. Cena was pleased with himself. Having won a one sided war of wills against Dean. Everyone said he wasn't right in the head, Dean Ambrose was as psychotic as everyone thought him to be. Could it be that they were right about him?
And it wasn't just Roman who heard Dean, Seth was hearing his friend's screams and yells from his own cell up on the second tier of AD-SEG. Alone and without his friend, Seth had nothing but his own mind to occupy himself with. At least in here, no one was going to get him.
The sound of the food tray slot opening, and the thick plastic tray of food was presented to him. It was one of the inmate orderlies, those preveledged enough to have a job inside the prison.
"Hey Mate." He heard Wade Barrett's voice said. "Just wanted you to know something, Rollins, you got mail yesterday. But I thought you should get this." He also dropped in an envelope. "Warden said you would be getting your stuff in a day or two. So out of the kindness of my own heart, maybe this could bring some light to your day." And then he left.
Groaning from the pain in his head, and the need to eat, Seth got up. Ignoring the letter, thinking that it was from his mother yet again, Seth grabbed the food tray and sat at the built in desk of metal and concrete. Much like the bed. Dinner, not much but strange meat on white bread that was dry and a carton of milk. At least here, he could eat for as long as he liked. Instead of fifteen minutes, he could have thirty minutes. And the only thing that was eligible of the mean was the orange. Even though it was a little soft for his liking, it was probably the healthiest that he had to look for, that and the slightly warm milk.
As Seth was chewing the last piece of his orange, and while stacking the peels up on the tray, he saw the white envelope on the floor. Yeah, he thought, it was probably from Mom. His mom was always sending him mail, talking about life back in Iowa. And it bored him because all she wanted to talk about was the golden child of the family, his younger brother. Well, better get to it.
Bending down, Seth picked up the sheer white envelope as he put his now empty food tray in the slot for pick up.
"Rose Miller? Portland, Oregon?" Seth read out loud flipping the envelope around.
Greetings Seth,
You don't know me, but my name is Rose Miller. I wanted to let you know, that this is my first time trying to write a letter to an inmate. I decided that if you don't respond, then I'll know that writing is not what I am supposed to be doing.
Actually, this is how I found out about writing to inmates. I work at a sort of barber shop here in Portland, I co own it with a friend of mine, it's called A Shave and a Haircut. I mainly work with styling men's hair and the single blade shave with the large leather strap and all. Well, anyway, I met a former convict, a former prison inmate who came from Ireland. And his wife and him were prison pen pals for some years. And that got me to thinking. Maybe I should give someone a chance to be my friend. Even though a lot of people aren't that open to the idea of me writing to an inmate, I decided to give it a try.
So, to start off, I'm twenty nine and yes I am single. But I am the happy mother of Tinkerbell, my part pitbull dog. Tinkerbell comes to the Shave and a Haircut with me, she's like the shop mascot. I love dogs, and giving a pitbull the chance is also a reason why I am giving this penpal thing a chance.
I believe everyone deserves a chance.
Sorry, I had to leave for work and I didn't want this letter to be seen around the break room. Work today was interesting. I work with my friend but we have a receptionist. I don't really feel comfortable with tell you their names, so A and B will have to do for right now. A is the friend I mentioned, but B is the receptionist. She's almost always late and has an issue with authority. But she has to do this because she needs shop training in order to get her beautician degree. She needs hands on training, but she acts like she's too good. Take today, she was late again and I think I smelled alcohol on her but that wasn't the worse of it.
You see being a popular barbershop, we have a lot of people setting up appointments. Well she had set up appointments for me, doubling up at the same time on a Monday. This Monday was today and I had two men coming in for their weekly shaves. So at least one was gracious enough to post pone his appointment and reschedule it with A, my friend while I tended to the man that needed the appointment for a big business deal or something like that. B, well we sent her home to clean out her head and hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. A and I have been playing around with getting a new receptionist but finding one on such short notice is a hard thing to do.
Anyway, I come from a long line of barbers, my dad learned from his dad and I learned from my dad. Dad isn't doing too well right now and I hope everything turns out all right for him in the long run.
Well, unfortunately, this is where I have to end it. I know you don't know me very well, but from what I saw on your pen pal article thing, you seemed interesting. So I hope to hear from you.
Stay safe, stay healthy.
Sincerely,
Rose Miller.
Seth could hardly believe it, someone finally answered his ad. And to boot, enclosed with the letter was a picture. The woman was, well not really on the pretty side, at least in his opinion. Not a model but she still could turn heads if she wanted to. And she had her arms around a smallish dog, no doubt Tinkerbell. Rose Miller, a sweet souled woman, someone who deserved a chance much like she did with him.
Too bad he didn't have his stuff. That way he could start really getting into writing a response back to her.
This wasn't the first time Dean had been in a restraint chair. It was really for his own protection and for staff as well. His arms were bound down onto the arms of the chair, his feet were bound to this thing to prevent him from kicking. He could not move anything except for his head. And even though there was a spit guard, to prevent him from spitting at the officers. Now sitting in that restraint chair, in just his prison issue tighty whities, Dean tried his hardest to show that there was nothing in this world that would stop him.
The world gave up on him, that's for damn sure.
The door to his cell clanged open. There was the Warden himself, the man that had hired him to take care of Kurtis Soft. Over Warden Levesque's shoulder, Dean could see the face of Cena looking in.
"Fuck you, Cena." Even if he was restrained Dean attempted to wrench his arms free, rocking the wheeled chair in a vain effort.
Cena, now sporting a nice black eye and several bruises around his bulky neck. That was where Dean had attempted to strangle the beefy armed man for nearly killing his friend.
"I heard what happened in your cell block." Warden Levesque said adjusting his suit tie.
"Yeah? I was giving him his due, Warden." Dean said.
"What do you mean?" Cena asked, earning a glare from the Warden.
"I ain't talking to you, Superman. Get the fuck out of here!" "Calm down, Ambrose." Levesque looked back to the inmate. "What did Inmate Soft do to you?"
"He was talking shit about some dude's daughter. Saw a picture or something. I went up there to warn him to keep his mouth shut and he came at me with a shank. I got it away from him and attacked him in return. You think I was going to stand there and let the fucker attack me."
"Come on, Warden, this is Ambrose. There has to be a reason behind the attack other than a supposed smack talk against some guy's kid."
"Cena, I'm ordering you to step back." Warden said, looking back at the CO. "I've got this under control. There have been other incidents of Kurtis Soft making remarks about juvenile girls before, I've got the reports if you think there aren't. As it stands right now, no one is being charged with anything at the moment. But unfortunately you'll be in The Hole for a while, Ambrose."
"My favorite place to be, Sir." He grinned before Levesque left the cell.
Cena looked in and glared at the man that had put his hands on him.
At least Superman now had something to worry about, Dean thought as the door was banged shut in front of him.
I understand this may be graphic, but this is what I know about prison life. So, what do you guys think? I really like the input you guys give. Thanks for reading.