Brodacious! A BroZone Oneshot Collection

Visitor

"Aw, no..."

Veneer moaned to himself, slumping down on his cot and facepalming in dismay. He was so not in the mood for this. He never was. And today it was hitting especially hard. Maybe because it had been exactly a month since his incarceration. Maybe because his attempt to speak to his sister had resulted in the throbbing pain that plagued his left cheek. Or maybe because of the haranguing speech that he knew awaited him once he left his cell.

He peeked a glance at the guard awaiting him, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as if to say "Well? Are you coming or not? You may have all day, but not everybody else does!" They were usually stoic, poker-faced, and unsympathetic towards inmates' desires. Rightly so. Much of the prisoners were delinquents who, if shown even an ounce of freedom, would take it to the extreme. His own sister had learned the hard way when her request to have the ankle chain removed from her leg was surprisingly 0granted. The teen was quick to make a run for it, but even quicker to have been thwarted by the security. Veneer hadn't really seen Velvet around since, but from what he heard, she was taken into solitary confinement.

That was why he had made it his mission to be on his very best behavior. He'd speak when spoken to, eat the entire tray of slop that they called "food," and hit the hay as soon as lights out was called. He never looked for fights or started any, and mostly kept to himself. So maybe, just maaaybe, if he asked really nicely, he could get out of this.

"Say, you know what? I'm not really sure if I can do this. You think maybe we could pick some other time?" Veneer grinned, hoping he looked and sounded polite.

But the guard was unmoved. "NO."

"But... I'm really not feeling well!" It was a little true. Veneer's stomach was churning at the thought of leaving his cell for what was intended for him. In a desperate attempt, he clasped his hands together, stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and made his eyes big. "Pretty pleeeease?"

The guard had an unreadable expression for a moment, before he raised his walkie talkie up to his mouth to speak. "Increase the prison sentence for inmate number 8231978."

Veneer dropped and act and gasped. "What? No! Okay, alright, I'll come!"

The guard humphed, unlocking the cell door so the teen could exit. With cuffs secured to his hands and an ankle chain to his left leg, the guard guided Veneer down the hallway.

The former Pop-star suppressed a groan and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. This was one of the parts he hated about this. The 'Walk of Shame.' The glares he'd receive. The jeers sent his way. Veneer wished he could burrow himself in the ground if it meant he didn't have to see the dirty looks being cast at him. And if looks could kill... Veneer shuddered to think that he'd probably be dead many times over.

Among other treacherous felonies, it seemed Mount Rageons truly despised frauds. Veneer supposed he understood why. It broke a golden value that was very challenging to win back - trust. He needn't look any further for an example of that, not only with what he and his sister had done, but also for his own sentiments towards her now. The resentment over Velvet's manipulation... and the painful sorrow he felt in his heart at her stubbornness in refusing to ever speak to him again.

He focused on the sound of the clinking chain rather than the colorful words of the other inmates, and felt only a fraction of relief once he was out of that hallway and brought into the next room over. Veneer stared at the familiar tile flooring beneath his feet. It was perhaps slightly more welcoming in sight than the cell units, for its brighter lights and fresher smell. But that's where the welcome wore out. So far, this room hadn't been a place of positivity for him.