+| The Warden |+ [mxb]

The Warden +| One |+

+| Cory Ryan |+

Never in a million years did I think that I would get caught. Then again, I don't think anyone ever thinks they're going to get caught committing a crime, they just do. Of course you're probably wondering, 'what did you get caught doing, Cory?' 

Well, my friend, I got caught trying to break into my nosy neighbor's house.

I mean, it's about time that someone served that stupid bitch Agatha some karma. She was always getting into other people's business, especially mine. She'd come by every day to see if my parents were home, and of course, they weren't. She even fucking called CPS on them! This was goddamn annoying because my parents had to return to town and I was forced to stick around our house. I would have preferred to continue going out and stealing shit.

I had been biding my time until I could piss right back in her face, and I thought my plan would work. I would break in, throw a bunch of shit around in her house, break a window or two, and get the fuck out of her crusty-ass home. However, that was not how it went down.

Regardless, I ended up sitting my stupid ass in a police cruiser on my way to some "youth reformation" place for kids like me- adults who weren't capable of actually doing adult-like things. Adults who were freshly 18, shit-faced on weed and coke, and overall, highly immature. 

Though I don't like doing drugs, I will admit that I'm pretty immature.

I stared out of the window as we approached a huge dull gray building. There was tall wire fencing that surrounded the building, barbed wire was placed at the top to prevent people from climbing over. The prison, or 'reformation center', was gloomy and menacing, and I shivered at the thought of being surrounded by weirdos and homicidal maniacs.

The vehicle approached an automatic gate that was manned by two bulky guards. They asked for identification, then peered into my window. I shriveled under the intense gazes of the two guards and sighed in relief once we were allowed passage through the gate.

Once we reached the building, I was roughly pulled out of the back of the car and shoved into a room where two other guards stood. They commanded me to strip, and I did so quickly so that I wouldn't get into any trouble.

After 10 minutes of being humiliated (being pat down, bending over to show my ass hole to some pervert guards, and dressing into some black sweatpants and a tight black shirt). Thank god the clothes weren't that bad.

I was then led down a scary windowless corridor and ended up in what the guards called Building 2. It looked like I had been taken to a foyer-style room that had a desk and some very sad metal chairs that looked like they made your ass numb after sitting on them for 5 minutes. A tough looking woman sat behind the desk and glanced up at the guard who had led me in, then glanced to me.

"Name?"

"Cory Ryan." The guards gruff voice spoke, "I trust you to inform him of how the rest of his stay here will be."

With that, the guard went back through the corridor that we had just walked from. I rubbed my sore wrists gently, grimacing as I saw the purple bruises that marked them. The stupid handcuffs were unnecessary when I was clearly a Twink that probably couldn't even run for 15 seconds without bursting a lung. I think those pervert guards got off on my pain. Icky.

"So, Cory," the woman began. "My name is Patricia Lee, and I coordinate all activities that occur within Building 2 along with Mrs. Linder, who is not currently here. You may call me Miss Lee."

I nodded, "'kay."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, "as you may or may not have known," I probably didn't know, "there are four buildings in this facility. Building 1 includes the entrance, housing for staff, and security rooms. Don't even try sneaking there- we'll catch you. Building 2 has the cafeteria, our outdoor area, activity rooms, reformation rooms, and other facilities for those who reside here. Building 3 is the housing for all of you delinquents. Finally, Building 4 is our smallest building- it contains highly-guarded cells for solitary confinement and for our more... troubled... inmates."

I nodded again.

"We have a set schedule for everyone here. You get up at 6:30am, you're allowed to use the restrooms to prepare yourself for the day, then you eat breakfast at 7:00am. After breakfast, you have time to yourself for a bit. Group therapy is at 9:00am, then you go on to reform classes at 10:30. Everyone is allowed outside into the courtyard at 12:00pm, and then it's lunch at 1:00pm.  At 2:00pm you will have another class with your assigned psychotherapist who will teach you more about your reform capabilities.  This class lasts for an hour, then at 3:00pm you are allowed to freely roam Building 2 and 3 until dinner which is at 6:00pm and ends at 7:00pm. You will have two hours in the showers, and you can also roam buildings 2 and 3, then you will be sent to your cells at 9:00pm to retire for the night."

I nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

She sighed, obviously she'd said this speech a million times before. "Cells are arranged in groups of 10, which are each in designated hallways. Hallways are numbered in tens, for example, there is a hallway 1 with cells 1-10 and hallway 2 with cells 11-12. You'd do good to remember hallway numbers and which cell numbers they have. You will have one roommate, thus 20 people will live in your hallway including yourself. At night, hallways are locked, but cells are not. You are allowed to freely roam your hallway, but of course, you will be watched at all times. Each hallway has a designated bathroom with 10 stalls and showers, I suggest you don't attempt any... funny business... in the bathrooms."

"Okay," I nodded again, "I don't think I'll remember that all."

"Schedules are posted frequently around the buildings. Do you have any questions?"

"Nope," I popped the p, and rocked back on my heels. How boring.

"Good. Your cell will be in hallway 13, cell 267. Follow that hall," she pointed down a hall labeled Building 3, "to reach Building 3. Amenities that you may need will be provided daily. Any other questions that you may have, you can ask your fellow inmates and the guards." She paused for a moment, "also, the warden, Jackson Steele, oddly enjoys talking to you guys... and checking in on everybody. He'll likely want to speak to you, so I'd recommend visiting him first. His residential area is located in Building 3 so that he isn't far from the inmates."

"Thanks." I began to walk off, whistling.

"Remember, this is a prison."

I shivered lightly at the warning in her words. For a moment I had felt like I was entering some fancy, strict boarding school when in reality I was in a fucking prison. Surrounded by brutal guards and psycho boys. Fun. Hopefully they're hot.

Each wall that I walked past was colored the same bland gray, tiny windows with bars littered the walls, but the view outside wasn't much better. There was no green, no color, just gray and brown. I passed two guards that were standing in a hallway, pausing to ask them a question.

"Where's the warden's office?"

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Thoughts?