eye of the beholder (L.S.)

Sweet Freedom, I Will Miss

They took his keys. They took his phone. They took his clothes. They took his humanity. Or at least that's how Harry felt. The guards searched him for anything he might've tried to sneak into the prison. They looked everywhere, and they searched thoroughly. Harry had never felt so exposed but he didn't let it show. After they checked him everywhere, they handed him an orange shirt with matching orange pants as well as a pair of boots.
"You can buy a toothbrush, soap, and other toiletries at the commissary" One of the prison officers tells him as he begins to dress. "But, until someone sends you some money you won't be able to buy anything, so I suggest you be friendly with the other inmates and they might consider sharing" another guard says from across the room.
Harry was told to follow one of the prison officers. As he walks with a guard, the guard lists some of the rules and the penalties if they're broken. They walk up a set of stairs and down the walkway and stop at cell B47. The cell isn’t exactly what Harry had pictured it to be.  No bars in the doorway, the inside isn’t dark and gloomy. The window does have bars on it but he was okay with that. The view wasn’t the best, but he supposed it shouldn’t be. This is a prison, not a resort.

"Well, the rest of the inmates are finishing up work right now and then it’s dinner time. So you should get settled and head to the cafeteria. It’s not too hard to find, just follow the signs and you should find it." The guard tells as he begins walking out the door.
 Before he walks out, Harry finally speaks " Thanks," he pauses as he leans to see the name on the guards badge " Officer Winklesworth " 
Harry tries his hardest not to giggle at the silly name. Seriously, Winklesworth? 
 

"Uh, you’re welcome," Officer Winklesworth says and he walks away.
Harry takes a minute to gather himself before he makes his way to the cafeteria. Just as Winklesworth had said, it was fairly easy to find. The oddly colorful arrows with the word ‘cafeteria’ scrawled below it, were fairly helpful. The large room is empty except for the prisoners working in the kitchen and the prison guard standing watch. Harry figures he should beat the rush and walks towards the food line. He grabs a plastic tray and begins walking down the line. He stops at the first cook to get a scoopful of whatever it was that they are serving (which looks like wet dog food). He keeps walking down the line and gets a helping of  steamed broccoli and some other yellowish brown food that he isn’t quite sure of. He picks up some sort of sponge cake at the end of the line and sits at a table towards the back of the cafeteria. As he starts to eat, he tries not to spit out the food. He knew it wasn't a good idea to piss off any of the cooks, so he pretends that he enjoys or at least tolerates the mush.

A few minutes pass by before Harry could hear the footsteps of several inmates rapidly approaching from the hallway. Hollering and laughter comes bellowing in from behind the doors. Then the prisoners start pooling in. Some rush to the food line while others begin taking seats at different tables. Harry felt like he’s in high school all over again. It seems like everyone has a clique or a posse. But unlike high school, Harry’s alone.

"Well well well. Look at what we have here boys." Harry can hear the deep voice of a man say right behind his ear. "Looks like we got some fresh meat sitting at our table." The same voice growls.
 

Harry turns around and sees a man standing behind him. The man has ugly tattoos up and down his arms and scars covering his face. His grubby face has more hair on it then his balding head. The man looks Harry straight in the eye.
 

"You boys know what we do with fresh meat that sits at our table?" the man asks his friends as he grabs at Harry’s neck, picking him up from his seat. Harry’s eyes begin to water and he can tell his face is starting to redden from the lack of oxygen.