You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

One. (Frank's POV)

Sweat was beading on my forehead and dripping down my neck. The dead woman in fornt of me was bleeding heavily in slow pulses from her chest. The pulses became slower and slower, more silent until they stopped.
I stood there, unable to move. Why was I here? I'm innocent, I'm not meant to be here.

Sirens exploded my ear drums as red and blue lights glowed from the large windows. An electronically filtered voice shouted from behind me, something I didn't hear. I was alone with a body and police officers. Where was the murderer?

I turned around to reveal a crowd of officers and the some family members, shooting daggers from their eyes at me from afar. Why am I here? Who did this? It wasn't me!

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I opened my eyes. The room was cold and I felt lonely. My matress creaked as I turned on my side to take hold of my surroundings. As my eyes got used to how dark the room was, I started to make out a small iron door with bars, a little wooden desk alonh with its matching chair, and another matress cemented to the wall opposite me.

The light mounted on the wall behind me that had been turned off until now, started to glow a bright red and beeped loudly. What the hell of an alarm clock is that?

The sound was soon followed with a banging on the iron door, making the whole room shake and echo.

"Up! We need number 498 and 499 in the caf in five minutes. Up!" A loud and heavy voice shouted from outside my room, before banging on other doors and shouting something similar.

I rolled out of bed on my left and fell hard on my hip. "Shit" I whispered loudly.
I then heard a slight mumbling coming from the other bunk. Looks like I'm not alone.

"Who's there?" The person said in a raspy, sexy morning voice.

"Me, uh-Frank" I replied, confused. I scratched my neck and yawned, my legs tangled on the floor and my hip burning in pain.

"Frank what?" The voice continued.

"I don't know, figure it out. Where are we?" I asked, I had a bad feeling about knowing the answer, I didn't want to know.

"We're in prison, you noob." He switched on the dim light on the desk. "You're my new cell partner."

The light only exposed some of his face, leaving some of it in the shadows. Form what I could see, his hair was flaming read, his cheekbones were high and his nose was small and pointy. The shadows contoured the creases of his temples, lower cheeks and jaw.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Nº 489." He said again, before standing up and opening the metal door to reveal a thin hallway wrapped around a few levels of cells. From the hallway-balcony thing, walls dived dowm to the first floor, where lines of men in orange jumpsuits queing to be checked and given their cell number.

Then it hit me. I was in fricking jail. I don't know why, or when I got here but I was, and I knew no-one.

I've had a fear of loneliness ever since I was a kid. It's like loneliness would wrap me up into her/his arms of sadness and squeeze me, suffocating me to death. I can't stand being surrounded with too many people at a time either, that suffocates me too. Here, I was in a jailhouse, alone. Though there were hundreds of people around me, I felt lonely and abandoned.

"You alright there, kiddo?" My cellmate called from behind me.

I realized I was pressed against the fence and looking down at the atrium. I was leaning way too forward and was almost falling. Startled, I bolted back up and turned around.

My cellmate, Nº 489 was glaring at me, the shadows of his face fading.

"Do you actually have a name?" I asked, puzzled at how one could ever forget their name. It's your identity, without it, you're just a human. Nothing but a meaningoess being.