Heathens -Twenty One Pilots

Prisoner no. 17354

Josh's POV

There's shouting coming from down the hall, like always I suppose, but it's different, like they have something to shout about.

There's footsteps too, although it can't be another patrol, there's still another 72 seconds before the next one will pass, so it must be a new addition to our cell block.

We could have saw it coming I suppose, cells here never stay empty long and the one opposite mine has been empty since...well, since who knows what happened to the last guy.

I hop off my bed and walk across the cell until I have to stop in front of the metal bars.

I lean on them as I see other inmates do likewise, dozens of mutants in orange jumpsuits craning to see who it will be, I don't blame them. Nothing interesting really happens here, unless you call riots and murder interesting.

Anyone could come around that corner. It could be a tall, thickly built man with scales or a slight girl with red eyes. As we wait to find out who it will be, to size them up, calls go from cell to cell, bets on what they'll be like, what they'll do, if it will be a girl, but none of them are right.

When the footsteps finally travel around the corner, I see someone who looks perfectly normal, like me I suppose.

The small figure is drowned by the orange fabric but unlike others who would fight the guards or cry in fear when entering this place, this person seems completely calm, resigned to their fate as they are shoved roughly along the corridor by the two tall men behind him, dressed in all black and pressing guns into his back. He just stares straight ahead, not even glancing at the jeering men and women who surround him.

As the guards draw level with my cell, the one closest to me takes his gun away from the new inmate for a moment to crash the butt of it into my knuckles which are gripping onto the bars. My joints burn in pain, but I know that I can't wince, I can't show weakness, and so I simply stare the guard squarely in the face as I back away from the bars.

The door to the cell opposite slides open and the guards shove their prisoner into the cell and against the wall, removing his cuffs before simply walking away as the gate slides closed again, sealing with a metallic clunk.

I watch the small figure as I slide down the wall to sit with my elbows on my knees, waiting to see if he would notice my gaze. After all, I've nothing better to do, I've lost count of the seconds since the last patrol.

He turns slowly from the wall, rubbing his wrists which have been rubbed raw by the cuffs, and then the panic starts to set in. His eyes grow wide and his breaths quicken as he looks around the cell, finally taking a few steps to the small bed where he sits with his knees tucked under his chin, staring at the wall ahead of him.

Other prisoners grow bored and stop watching him, but I want to know more, so I keep staring at the shaking body, waiting for him to turn his head.

Eventually, he feels my gaze and glances around, swallowing visibly before he speaks, barely audible over the sounds of the other prisoners.

"Why are you staring?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

"Because you are the most interesting thing that's happened in a long time." I reply evenly.

He hesitates before speaking again. "What is this place?"

I chuckle a bit before I reply, remembering when I had first arrived here and been that naïve. "The most secure prison on the continent, possibly the earth. No human prisoners means no human rights to get in the way of security."

"But we're still human." He practically whispers, dropping his gaze back to his knees.

"Look around. There's about five people in this whole place who even look human, maybe six."