KRISTY I
“Alright you scum. Line up!” barked one of the prison guards. I think his name is Luke Stone. At one point, he had lived in the same city as me. I never forget a face. He was carrying a rifle and had the coldest eyes that would make a penguin shiver. As you can probably guess, he’s not the nicest person in the universe. But not the worst. No, somebody else had already earned that title.
I turn my back to the wall and rush over to get in line. The scraggily grass tickling the bottoms of my bare feet as I run. If I don’t get over there quick enough, I might lose my dinner privileges. The food here is terrible but it still sucks even more to go hungry. I fall in line in between two other girls who are also prisoners. They look to be a couple years older than me and twice my size. I’m small for being seventeen, but these girls were big. And it was not from being overweight. They both stood about six feet tall, and you could tell they had been in a few fights in their lifetime. But they didn’t scare me. I didn’t want to mess with them, but they didn’t scare me. I had seen way worse things recently than a couple of tough looking girls.
“Three hundred, twelve.,” yelled Luke. That’s my number. We all have an identification number. Not a name. Why would we? All we are to them are numbers, nothing more.
“So, here’s the deal,” he says leaning closer to my face. This breath smells of tuna and makes me want to gag. He speaks slowly, as if I won’t understand him if he talks normally.
“You stop messing around that wall, and I’ll consider not doing this again.”
I clench my teeth as the back of his hand connects with the side of my face. The pain is bearable, but my fury is blinding. The last time someone hit me like this, it didn’t end well. For him that is.
“Don’t you dare hit me again.” I growl at him. I can feel the heat in my cheek where he hit me.
“Shut up, b-.”
I can’t help it. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until it’s too late and two other guards come running over and start peeling me off of Luke. I see him holding his nose. Blood gushes over his mouth and also is splattered across my knuckles. He doubles over and spits out blood, then glares at me with a look of pure hatred. I kick one of the guards holding me and his grip on my arm loosens. But the other one is too quick. He hits me on the back of my head. There is a white hot pain, and then everything goes dark as I collapse onto the hard ground.
***
I open my eyes and I’m in my cell. I have a splitting headache that makes me feel nauseous. I look around and realize that I’m on the floor. Nice. They couldn’t even bother to drag my limp body into my cot. Those jerks just dumped me on the ground. But the concrete is cool and feels nice compared to the muggy air in here, so I decide to stay lying down for now.
I vaguely remember what happened before I was knocked out. It’s all pretty much a blur. I remember being mad, sticky, crimson blood, a sharp pain, and then complete darkness. I must have hit someone. Luke. I look down at my hands. His blood is dried on my knuckles. It’s dark, rust color makes me cringe. I quickly get up and stumble over to the sink. I turn the knob and wait. Eventually, dirty water splutters out, but soon clear water starts to flow. I scrub my hands and watch the bloodied water swirl down the drain. I rinse my face in the cool water then take a long refreshing drink. The water tastes a little funny, but I don’t care.
