Anaphylaxis: the inability to breathe.

Prologue

     with a necessary forwarning, this book contains very graphic descriptions of thing such as (not limited to): sexual assault, assault, abuse, recless endangerment, and multiple acounts of homicide; read at your own risk.
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        If you press down on someone's jugular and you can still hear that awful guttural scream they release; you aren't doing it hard enough. Move fast, don't get caught, stay out of sight; only one fucking job to do, and I still failed. The mission to purify the inhabitants of this wretched world failed all because I couldn't keep one measly little twit quiet.

         I don't remember my name, I don't know where I'm from and I don't have a family to ask; as far as ADMAX is concerned, it doesn't matter either. Here, my name is Ashley (lovingly given to me by all of ADMAX( Florence Administrative Maximum Facility)); in the paper, my name is 'The Batter'; that's what my subordinates called me, that's what I liked. But now I'm some bitch named Ashley.

       'The Batter' made sense, I was imprisoned with eighty-three life sentences stacked onto me, an approximation of 2075 years minimum. My trademark move? Well, I beat them till they couldn't breathe. With a baseball bat; not a fucking ashtray. Of course, I didn't just use my bat, I always forced a metal ring around their neck. I left it tight enough to not allow a scream to whisper past their lips, but it was still loose enough to breathe. I never had it tight enough to kill them.

        I was doing so well, my subordinates loved me, admired me; until the fucking kid came along. All of my rings were suited for ADULT necks, not some bratty shit-faced pet sperm someone left without a leash. Even with little to no neck, I can usually manage, but him? What the fuck man. He was my last kill for the month, I was tired, I wanted a fucking nap but noooo. Apparently, nine-year-olds don't appreciate the sweet release of death quite as much as your day-to-day millennial. He screamed so fucking loud (my poor ear drums) that he woke up the whole ass block; and yet, I'm the one who has to go to jail. He's the one that disturbed the peace.

       With no interrogation even given, they found my base, they found my men, and they found the bodies. There was no proof that anyone but me killed them, and my men stuck with that. To save their own ass, every last one of them turned on me. I was alone, all that I had, turned its back on me. That's literal bullshit by the way; if I ever even smell them again I promise that I will beat them so fucking hard, they will cry for their god, they will learn their fucking place-

"HEY,,, Ashley, get your head out of your ass god dammit I'm talking to you"

        A guard spoke to me, I'm not sure how many times he's called 'my name', and I sure as hell don't know why he is. He's a potbelly pig, a whore, dick weed probably fucks the inmates for drugs-

  "Gawd dammit Ashley, I oughta beat your ass for ignorin' me"

"If you interrupt my insults one more time I'll fucking-"

"You'll what? Play baseball with my brain? Slit my throat? That's cute. Your faggot ass can't do shit in here Ashley, now suck it up and stick your hands out the hatch for me."

         The guard wore a look of demonic self-pleasure across his face, he literally looked like a hermit crab and Mr. Mime had a child; and yet he had the audacity to be this much of a bitch.

 "I'm not gay."

"Ok pretty boy, that's not what your last cellmate said."

        Displeased but compliant, I stood and walked to the door before turning and sticking my hands out behind me. The guard reached in and grabbed my wrists to cuff me, he claimed it was for safe measure, but he KNEW I couldn't do anything anymore. It was deemed unsafe to allow me to do 'muscle building exercises' the day that I got there, they thought that my strength was too risky and instead decided that I was to be weak and brittle. My own lawyer said the same, he told me that if I was weak and scrawny that the people would believe that I could do no wrong. The decrease in my muscle mass was henceforth known to all of ADMAX as 'project Ashley'. With a tug on the chain, Mr. FuckFace once again cut off my inner pity party.

"What do you want Mitchell."

 "Boy you know better than to call me by name, and you know why I'm here."