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Angie was shaking with anger. Anger she couldn't control, much less calm down. Her fists were tight as she kept her arms wrapped around her legs. She was in the corner of the room, where it was the darkest. She couldn't control much, except where she wanted to sit. She chose the darkest corner to make sure no one saw her. She didn't want anyone to see her this way, the blood still on her hands, because this wasn't Angie.
Time passed slowly. Angie wanted the anger to end. It was eating her up, and she was slowly falling prey to it.
It had only been seven minutes since Angie had sat down. She looked at the wall. She began to grind her teeth. Another minute passed. With a yell, Angie ran up to the wall and began to hit against it with her fists. Each additional yell meant another fist was hitting the wall. She felt the skin tear at the joints but still didn't stop. Then there was a loud crack. Then a pop. Then pain that shot up her arm. Angie stopped, she had to.
She took a few deep breathes and sank onto her knees, her head down. She glanced at her fists. They were quickly developing bruises. Her own blood was now mixed with the drying blood from the other inmate. Angie was beginning to feel the anger lessen.
There was a knock on the metal door. "Angela?" A female voiced asked. It seemed like she had been waiting.
"Yes?" Angie asked with relief noticeable in her voice.
"It's Michelle Abernathy, from the presentation. Along with my partner." She said. "May we come in?"
If Angie could open the door, she would. But she was the one in prison, she couldn't just open doors whenever she pleased. She was unsure of how to answer the question, but she liked that Abernathy still treated her like a person and not an inmate.
"Um, sure." She replied awkwardly and stood up.
A guard unlocked the door and opened it slowly. There stood the two people from the presentation.
"We aren't allowed to take you out of the cell so our discussion will have to be here." Abernathy explained.
They took a step inside the cell, the door stayed open.
"We were told that you had an...episode." Hayes began. "Can you tell us more about that?"
Angie wasn't sure where to begin. The event had no clear beginning. She simply overreacted to a small event and things went downhill from there. How could she clearly explain that?
She had to give them at least some kind of answer. So, she gave them the muddled answer. The answer that had no clear beginning, middle, or end. And hopefully, they could figure out what to do.
As Angie was telling the story, a thought flickered into her mind: Mari. Angie wasn't sure if she had come back yet from the hospital. Where was her friend, was she alright?
