prisoner

01 || meet

[A/N]- i suggest going to the Aa in the top right corner of this screen and changing the background to black and the words to white. it's not necessary but i happen to like how it looks for this story.

*y/n pov*

"you're scared aren't you?" my dad glances over at me, his wrist draped lazily over the steering wheel of the cruiser.

"no. i'm not scared at all. just a normal day, you know. going to a prison and being surrounded by murderers and rapists and stuff. really fun." i sarcastically remark.

"welcome to my life." he mumbles, taking a turn onto a narrower road.

"remind me why i signed up for this?"

"you wanted to explore your fathers job as a correctional officer to get a shot at counseling in prison, so that you can get extra credit for your psychology module."

"that question was supposed to be rhetorical." i pick at a loose string on my jacket.

"if you didn't want an answer, then don't ask."

i mutter a curse under my breathe and pull my jacket around myself tighter. we sit in silence for the rest of the ride, and i watch as the road gets smaller and more deserted with every passing second.

then i see it.

as we get closer, i can see the high concrete walls, painted a pale white. it's exterior managing to look dead and dull. sharp fencing with barbed wire is lining the perimeter, and a big, rusted silver gate as the entryway. it looks pretty much abandoned and dilapidated.

how is this sturdy enough to confine wild criminals?

he guides the cruiser through the narrow gates and into the back where there sits a parking lot. he cuts the engine and i'm suddenly aware of how silent this place is. i draw a deep breath and step out of the car.

my dad is already brisk walking ahead of me so i jog to keep up with him. the gravel crunches under my sneakers with every step i take.

"don't worry, they won't hurt you." dad reassures me one last time as we near the cast iron double doors. "you will be working with someone around your age anyway."

"There are people here my age?" I question.

i'm only 17 and the worse thing i've ever done was sock a bitch in the throat during last years gym class. how can there be kids my age in here? and what could they have done to get locked up?

"well yeah, i think so." he shrugs, reaching for the door handle. the door swings open, creaking on its hinges. dad holds it open for me as i step in with my breath hitched in my throat.

it just leads to a dimly lit hallway.

the door shuts behind us with a clang that echoes down the hallway and sends chills down my spine. i tuck my now clammy hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

"this place looks haunted." i muse.

"well it probably is." dad laughs beside me.