Prisoner

Prologue

The handcuffs are too tight. They will surely leave abrasions as a reminder of the day my life ended.

I enter the building. I don't even look up. I have zoned off, turned inward. Not ready to face the reality of my situation. Cold.

"Name?"

I don't answer. Hardly heard the question. Staring at the dirty floor without blinking even though my eyes are dry. Preventing myself from crying. I have to be tough now. Showing emotions is a sign of weakness. At least in a place like this. That thought gives me chills.

I disconnect. Don't think. Don't feel.

"Name?" Someone asks again.

The person beside me shoves me lightly.
"Louis Tomlinson."

I don't make eye contact. Stare at the floor. It's cracked. My vision goes blurry. I blink. Once. Slowly.

"Crime?"

I flinch. Involuntarily. I don't want to put that word in my mouth, definitely not say it out loud. I press my lips tight. I get shoved again. I hesitate.
"First-degree murder." I mumble.

I don't look up. I don't want to see the disgust displayed on their faces.

They take me to another room. White walls. Empty.
"Take off your clothes."

I bite my tongue. Hold out my hands. How the fuck am I supposed to take my clothes off with handcuffs? I raise my head. Look at the prison guard.
"Are you gonna behave?"

I nod my head. There's nothing funny about this situation but I can't get the resemblance to sex out of my head. Here I am, in cuffs, about to strip naked and they ask me if I'm gonna behave. Not funny but I can't hide the smirk.

I change my mind as soon as I stand there naked. There's absolutely nothing to smirk about. It's nothing like sex. Humiliating, that's what it is. Absolutely horrifying.

I get asked to take a seat in the BOSS chair. Once again, a witty comment is on the tip of my tongue. I stay quiet.

They're checking if I have hidden any electrical or phone equipment inside my body. Do people really shove a phone up their asses? Apparently.

Then I have to spread and cough. Drugs. I could surely use them right about now but of course, I'm not stupid enough to try and smuggle something into a high-security prison.

Finally! They hand me some clothes. Grey sweats, a white t-shirt, white boxers and socks, and a grey sweatshirt. I hurry to get dressed. I don't feel like being naked any longer than necessary. Exposed. Humiliated.

"You will be able to wear your own clothes after we have gone through your bag." The guard informs me. I bow my head to let him know that I heard him.

I think about how much effort I put into packing that bag. Weighing each piece of clothing in my hand. Trying to decide what to bring. To prison. Absurd situation. I'm still in shock.

They show me to a holding cell.
"You'll spend the night here and tomorrow we continue the process to enroll you." The guard informs me.

I step inside. They lock the cell behind me. I feel like a caged animal. Panic. Wide eyes. Staring into nothing. My life is really over. 25 years. I will be 55 when I get out. All my plans got destroyed in one second. A family of my own. I'll be too old. There's no way I'm gonna be a prison dad. I would never do that to a kid.

Tears are burning behind my eyes. I lay down on the bed. The mattress is hard. Lumpy. I press my knees against my chest. Hold them. Roll into a ball. Let my tears flow. Feel.