Prisoner

2

I wake up cuffed to a hospital bed. I'm groggy. That was one hell of a cocktail they gave me. I look down at my hands. They're wrapped in bandages.

"Welcome back. I'm Dr. Horan. I'm sorry about the handcuffs. I need to follow protocol." Someone says with a distinct Irish accent.

I look up to see a man my age smiling friendly at me. I huff.
"You really did a number on those poor knuckles. I had to sew a few stitches. Don't worry, they will look as good as new when they're healed." Dr. Horan says.

I don't fucking care. I turn my head to the side and look away.
"Right, Harry will be in shortly to have a little chat."

Who the fuck is Harry? Like I care. I don't care about anything anymore. A couple of minutes later someone enters the infirmary.
"Hi Niall, is he awake?"

Oh. Dr. Styles. I recognize that voice. I refuse to look at him. Stare at nothing. I hear the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
"Hi Louis, how are you feeling?" His voice is soft. I don't move. He sighs.

"Please talk to me. I don't want to have to send you to solitary confinement." He pleads.

I wise up. I don't want that either. I turn my head to look at him.
"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Louis. What happened?" He asks.

I swallow. Sigh.
"It finally hit me. What my life will look like in the next 25 years. I took out my frustration on the wall. I'm not a violent guy. I'm not gonna hurt anyone."

"I'm more concern about you hurting yourself for the moment." He says, face matching his voice of concern.

"I just have a little trouble adjusting to the small living space, which is surprising since I have a big family." I frown. Immediately regret that I shared personal information.

He smiles beautifully for a moment. Then he's serious again.
"First time in jail is a big adjustment."

"Yeah, don't send me to one of those mattressed cells. Then I will really go mental." I say lightly. I mean every word.

"Will you stop hitting the wall?" He asks.

"Yes."

"Alright. You can go back to your cell then, but I think we should see each other on a daily basis." He says.

"Why?" I groan. I don't want to be known as the crazy one.

"So I can help you ease into your new life situation." He says. It sounds like I don't have a choice. I probably have but then I will be sent to the hole instead or something equally charming. I nod my head. The faster I accept that I'm not in charge of my own life anymore the easier it will be. At least until I can score some drugs.

"Alright. Keep your head up. I'll see you tomorrow then." He smiles.

He walks out and Dr. Horan enters the room again. Two guards accompany him.
"Mr. Tomlinson is ready to go back to his cell."

The guard with raven hair steps up to me. Geez, did they find their staff on a fucking model agency? They're all good-looking.
"If I remove your handcuffs, will you keep calm?"

"Yeah." I promise.

The cuffs come off. I want to rub my wrists but my hands are bandaged. I get up. Shaky legs. The guards take me back to my cell.
"You missed dinner, but I will check if there's anything left. I'll be back soon." The other guard says.

"Thank you." I mumble.

They leave my cell. Lock the door behind them. I'm already panicking. I find the remote and turn the tv on. Flip through the channels. Nothing to see. Ten minutes later the guard returns with a tray. He puts it in front of me and leans against the wall. I give him a questionable look.
"I can't leave you alone with utensils when you just had a breakdown." He explains.

"Great." I mutter.

I try to grab the fork. I'm struggling to hold it with the bandage on my hand. I manage to cut the fish sticks into smaller pieces and mix them with the mashed potatoes. I ignore the peas and lift the plate to shove some food in my mouth. I glance at the guard.
"I'm Louis. What's your name?"

"Liam." The guard answers.

"Where's your buddy?" I ask while I try to eat.

"Outside the door." Liam informs me.

"Name?" I ask.

"Zayn." He responds.

"I'm not gonna stab you with this fork." I tell him. I have no idea why I just said that.

He smiles.
"I'm glad to hear that."

I fumble with the glass of water. Put the plate down so I can grab it with both hands. Drink.
"So how long have you been working here?"

"Three years." Liam says.

"Do you like your job?" I ask. I know I'm being chatty. I wonder if that's considered inappropriate?

"It's alright." He shrugs.

"I love my job, or... I mean, the one I used to have." Now I'm just sad. How can I forget where I am?

"Yeah? What did you do?" He asks politely.

"I was a gym teacher. High school." I mutter. I wonder how the students took the news that their teacher is a murderer? At least in the eye of the public.

He looks surprised.
"Really?"

"Yeah. Never mind. I'm done. You can take this." I say and hand him the tray. I really need a smoke.

"Okay. Yard time in twenty minutes. I'll come back to get you." Liam says and leaves the room.

I get up to look for my pack of smokes. I glance at my clothes. They're covered in dry blood. That's just nasty. I remove the sweatshirt and open the closet to find a new one. The smell of my detergent hits me and it reminds me of a life far gone. I blink to get rid of the tears that threaten to spill. I have to stop being such a crybaby. I grab a clean sweatshirt and pull it over my head.

Liam returns and I grab my pack of smokes. This is the first time I will see more of the prison than my cell and the infirmary. I'm nervous.