Jailhouse (Sequel to "My sisters, Bad boy.")

1; Ashley

My sisters, bad boy.

Jailhouse.

...................

There can be a lifetime of pain.

There could be months of pain.

There could be weeks of pain. Days, hours, minutes, and seconds of pain. But for me, it's endless. Not psychical pain. But mental. And some physical. I honestly don't care. I use marihuana to get over it. Give me freedom. I'm not proud of it. And I've tried to stop. I went to rehab a couple times, but nothing worked.

It never works.

So I guess that's why I'm on this bus. On the way to jail for drug use. Staring out the window and into the snowy weather. The small flakes sticking to the window and making it even colder. I pressed my hand against it and sighed, feeling the freezing cold go numb. In two hours, we won't be anywhere near the cold. We will be in the middle of a scorching hot dessert with nothing around but sand.

I guess I earned this, though. After all, I did drugs for five years, stole from a couple convent stores, and fought girls for money. So yea, I did deserve this. And I will deserve the things that's coming to me. But you know what, is don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. Not since the end of high school.

I did go to collage. I was in collage. Thats when the partying start. Which lead to bad people, drugs, sex, and a lot more things I'm not proud of. And of course, people found out, and snitched.

Snitches are such fucking bitches.

I start feeling the urge for more. More marihuana or drugs. I bite my lip furiously, and tap my foot wildly. I shake my head and pull the hair bow on my wrist back and let it snap on my skin. I do it repeatedly until my wrist starts bleeding. I sigh and let my head fall against the foggy window.

Everything coming to me, I deserve.

"Hey. Your that druggie, aren't you?" I turn my head and see a large, built woman standing before me. Her hands keeping her standing up right on the seat in front of me, and beside that one. I take a minute to take in her appearance. Large, muscular arms, legs, and whole body.

Tattoos of knives, guns, and skulls are drawn all across her muscles. Which are almost the same as the ones on my arms. And leg. Mine have true meaning To them. Like the one on my right arm, which has a girls face at the top and flowers all the way down. Which follows onto my leg. Or my left arm, a sword, stabbing a heart. With a Ribbon around it saying 'true love.' That one, represents that love, can and will hurt. Which only brings back high school.......

No, I can't and I won't think about him. Not now, not ever. I won't see him again, so there's no use anyway.

"I have a name, bitch." I say, making sure my voice is bitchy and cold. Hiding any of my feelings that might be showing. I've also learned to do that. Hide myself. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at me. "Bitch? Really now? Do you even know who your talking to?"

I looked around the bus, and the other six or seven girls were starting to stare. Not that it even bothered me anymore. People would watch and stare as I punched girls teeth out. Or when I drugged myself up. Its normal.

"A man." I said. I heard a few chuckles from around the bus. The woman standing before me, grabbing the collar of my jumpsuit and pulling me to her face. Where I could smell her Rachid breath. "Listen here, druggie. I am a woman. You get me, wo-man. So kiss my ass and keep your mouth shut."

I smirked. she was such a newbie. "How can I kiss your ass and keep my mouth shut at the same time? Try thinking about that next time, big guy." I patted her shoulder. Thats when she threw back her fists and threw it at my face. Pain shot through my jaw, but I've had worse before. Even from one of the largest woman on earth. I smirked and looked back at her, my nose bleeding, along with my spilt and busted lip.