Incarceration

Chapter Fifteen

"I'll take over from here." A guard shoos the nurse away.

I feel a thickness in my throat. I beat it back down. He leads me through the door, past the dining room, and into the cell hallway. Boisterous noise floods the air of a general population pod.

Putting a prisoner from Honors in General Population is like throwing fresh meat to hungry hyenas. We had been the sheltered ones, protected at least from the anger of other prisoners. I wonder who else had been moved into General Pop? Had all of Honors moved? Had Solitary? When we reach an empty cell near the end, the guard unlocks it and lets me in.

The cell seems much smaller than the one I had become accustomed to. Most of the floor space is taken up by a desk, toilet, and two beds. Two beds, I think, an uncomfortable dread rising in my head.

"Hey." The gruff voice comes from behind. I jump and turn. Behind me towers a girl with black, shoulder length hair, messily tied back to reveal her scowling face. She's big—bigger than me at least—and I feel my heart beginning to pound through my chest.

"Hey," I say back. Bending my head to avoid eye contact with the girl, I move toward a bed in the corner.

"What are you doing?" she snaps.

"Huh?" I fumble. "Sorry, I—"

"That's my bed."

"Does it matter?" I shrug and sit down on it. Defiance courses through my veins. This is Gen Pop and I'm a former guard. I'm in trouble if I don't come on strong. I stare at her, threatening her to talk back. She looks at me with disbelief.

"Sit down," I say, motioning to the other bed. "What are you in here for, anyway?"

"Loitering."

"What a badass," I say, laughing.

A smile spreads across her face. "I'm Emma Berk, by the way."

"Maxwell."

"Wait! You're Harriet Maxwell—the guard?"

I nod. "But I'm not a guard anymore."

"Wow!" she says. "This is awesome." Then with a hopeful look in her eyes, one I recognized all too well, "You can get me out? Right?"

"I wish," I say lightly. "If I knew how, I'd be gone by now."

Her face falls. I hate it when I have to tell people I can't break them out of hell.

When the bell rings, the doors don't all open at once. Instead, two guards push a cart of food to each cell and hand each of the prisoners a tray through the flap in the door. Unlike the Honors Hall, where prisoners are permitted to mingle in the cafeteria during all three meals, prisoners in General Population only go to the cafeteria at dinner.

When the guards get to our cell, I am surprised that I don't recognize them. Instead of the sleek, shiny white uniforms, they wear ones similar to the old-fashioned police blues, dull and loose. The face that peers in on us from the window is frightening, his eyes glazed over with anger, as he slaps open the latch and thrusts the trays through. Emma and I jump out of the way just in time to save ourselves from the food that flies everywhere as the trays tumble to the ground. The guard sneers and marches away.

"Oh God, that stinks," Emma says.

Moving my hands to cover my nose and mouth, I nod.

As I'm trying desperately to pass time in my cell, I realize that I use the window quite often, and I actually start to appreciate it. Just like in the hospital, I can see up and down the halls. I notice which prisoners are sending notes to each other and which are troublemakers. It helps to have Emma update me about the other prisoners in the pod. Apparently, all three prison divisions have been consolidated, resulting in a mix of all kinds of prisoners in the same pod.