The Prison Project [-Editing-]

11: Linley

Well, that chapter took much longer to write than I expected it to. But, here it is. Please let me know if you spot any grammar mistakes or have any suggestions to make this chapter a little more interesting, because believe me, I know it isn't all that interesting (but it is necessary). Anywho, I hope you all that are still reading will enjoy. :) I'm trying to update as often as I can.

Picture of our little Scott to the right <3 -->

(And yes, I know Charlie Tahan is much older now. Just imagine him as a little kid again for this story...haha)

11: Linley

            “Wake up sleepy head!” someone says in a dorky tone.

            I mumble sleepily, confused. Where am I? Why is everything dark?

            “Wake up means open your eyes…”

            I slowly and groggily lift my eyelids from my bleary, sleep filled eyes. Oh.

            The man from earlier, Keene, is standing over me with a bemused grin on his face, his rumpled brown hair curling out from his scalp in all directions. His brown eyes look tired, but still full of life and sparkle.

            “You…you drugged me,” I say slowly, trying to remember exactly what happened.

            He chuckles. “That I did. But now the drug is wearing off, and I must deliver you to your cell.”

            “My…cell?”

            Keene rolls his eyes. “You’re our prisoner, remember?” He helps me sit up and holds onto my arm as I stand from my place on the strange bed table. Realization suddenly hits me.

            “Wait a minute!” I yell, shoving him away from me. “You kidnapped me! You took me away from Trey and Boone and Des and Collin, you drugged me, you threatened me, you…you ruined everything!”

            I turn on my heel to make a break for it, but he snatches me by my shoulders and shoves me against a wall, his face now mere centimeters away from mine, his heavy breath tickling at my cold skin. He no longer looks so laid back and amused; he looks absolutely livid.

            “I call the shots around here, kiddo,” he whispers dangerously. “So I suggest that you obey and allow me to lead you to your cell.”

            “Over my dead body,” I snarl back.

            Keene raises his hand and slaps me across the face, causing me to fall to my knees and searing, hot pain to spread across my cheek like a wildfire. I gasp, shocked. Keene kneels down and stares into my eyes once more.

            “I’m not afraid to hit girls,” he says bluntly. “Get up. Now.”

            I place a hand on my cheek and glare at him as I rise to my feet. He seizes my arm and begins to drag me out of the room, his nails digging into my skin and the tight grip of his fingers making my arm go numb. I wince a little, but I refuse to remove the scowl from my face. As we are walking, I take in my surroundings.

            Everything, and I mean everything, is perfect, spotless white, or stainless steel. Everything is shaped like a square; symmetrical, flawless, smooth, cut, and clean. And it drives me nuts. I miss the sloppiness of home, the fact that we had bacon grease stains on the oven and dark blotches on the carpet from when Boone was still potty training; I miss the flaws that reminded me I was…well, human. This place just makes me feel like a mindless zombie.