𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 . . . For Caroline Reese, the state's top inspector, the fall is vertiginous; accused of crimes that cast her as the very darkness she once fought against, she's pulled back into a nightmare she believed she had...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She felt their piercing gazes bore into her, like daggers slicing through her very being. It had been that way since her arrival. In the prison hierarchy, police officers fell somewhere between informants and child killers; they were objects of morbid curiosity and cruel taunts. So, from the galleries, through the half-open doors, and the serving hatches, they watched her, their eyes like unyielding sentinels.
Police Commander Caroline Reese was awaiting trial, but her sentence had already been handed down by her fellow inmates: she was a perverse and murderer who deserved the good old-fashioned punishment doled out at Bedford Hills. At the head of her line of judges: the criminals that Caroline had herself arrested and sent here. Giving a taste of the fallen policewoman's own medicine was a duty as much as a pleasure.
Her only respite from the daily flood of gratuitous insults and violence came during working hours ── the inmates knew best not to disturb the well-oiled machinery of the prison ── yet even there the revelry was minimal. Tasks were assigned by prison staff, and Caroline's assigned officer, a burly sadist named Donovan, took pleasure in assigning her the most degrading chores. Cleaning showers and toilets removing medical waste and, worst of all, tidying up the canteen.
Already usually demanding, the task had been particularly exhausting this evening due to the mess left by "Leah/Ryan". Although now living as a man, Leah was serving her sentence in Bedford Hills because biologically she remained a woman. She hated this place and was fighting a torturous legal battle to get transferred to a men's facility. The other prisoners exploited her setbacks to provoke her and notably refused to call her by the name she had chosen, Ryan. Unsurprisingly, things once again escalated, and a violent fight ensued. Overpowered by the guards, Leah's anguish spilled forth in a gut-wrenching display of vomit, adding to Caroline's disgusting drudgery.
She was just about done mopping the floor, stretching out the few minutes before being dragged back to her wretched cell, when she heard footsteps. Without even looking, she recognized that slow, deliberate gait. Henry Donovan walked towards her, leaving a trail of footprints on the freshly clean, still-damp floor.
"It's dirty," he spoke, gesturing towards his tracks.
"Apologies, sir," Caroline muttered, "I'll clean it up."
"You better. If there's one thing I despise, it's shoddy work," As he said this, he lifted his right foot and tapped the rim of the bucket, which tipped over and spilled its soiled contents. Caroline's gaze shifted from the mixture of water and vomit to Donovan, her eyes ablaze with fury.
"Repeat the task," he commanded nonchalantly. "I expect it to gleam for the upcoming Christmas festivities."
Seething with rage, Caroline stooped down to retrieve the mop. But just as she reached for it, she suddenly felt a sharp jolt of an elbow dig into her loins, causing her to gasp. The force of the blow sent her crashing to her knees, instinctively grabbing hold of the bucket, her knuckles turning white from the intensity of her grip. Donovan, seemingly unaffected, carried on his path.
The girls in the gallery reveled in the spectacle, their laughter echoing through the room.
"Aim at me this chicken which has the nose in the trough!" Shouted a little prankster, triggering general hilarity.
Caroline looked up, refusing to appear defeated, but all she saw were mocking faces rejoicing in her misfortune. If she had still been a respected law enforcement officer, she would have dealt with someone like Donovan quickly and easily. But now she was helpless. Here, she was the butt of ridicule, a ticking time bomb, a trophy to be held up for anyone brave enough to attack.
She had held on until now, but how much longer would luck smile at her? She was surrounded by women ready to slit her throat at the first opportunity, and the prison authorities refused to consider the risk she was running. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and couldn't afford to let her guard down even for a single moment.
In Bedford Hills, danger lurked around every corner.
──────────────────
Near the window, Caroline gazed at the moon, full and magnificent, its brilliance cutting through the darkness of her cramped cell. Three meters by three meters fifty, the walls painted lime green, furnished with a bed, a bathroom sink, and a toilet, all bolted to the floor, the room now constituted her universe.
The doors had been locked for a long time, but Caroline often found herself in this state of meditative surveillance. She preferred it over the relative comfort of her worn-out bed. The frame creaked, the mattress smashed, and the constant ambient noise made sleep elusive. It started as soon as the lights went out. The inmates, who called out to each other, implored their mother, or God. A hubbub as predictable as it is incessant. When the screams stopped, the whines took over. When those subsided, the crying started. And when at last they were silent, we heard the critters.
A hefty rat had run over her body the first night; it had crossed her bed before vanishing into the crevices of the bricks. Like its congeners, it was here, at home. Blue flies swirled above the toilet bowl day and night, while cockroaches emerged as darkness fell. Initially, Caroline would crush them upon sight. But each victim was immediately replaced. She had given up. After all, they too were stuck here.
Since then, she spent her nights watching them go about their business, only retreating to bed when exhaustion overtook her. Those first hours after the doors were locked were the hardest for Caroline, as the true horror of her situation settled in. It was beyond belief, and yet she was in Bedford Hills, the penitentiary center that had once housed her sister. A few lifers remembered Annika, speaking approvingly of her intelligence and wit, as well as, admittedly a little less warmly, the violence of which she was capable.
Caroline was nearing the end of long nights of hard work when someone decided to play a cruel trick on her, charging her of bioterrorism and killing two people solely to trap her. Mission accomplished since she now found herself in the company of liars, thieves, and murderers.
Clutching a piece of chalk from the windowsill, Caroline fiddled with the crucifix around her neck and drew a simple line on the wall beside her bed. One more in a long, regular row. She diligently marked each day of incarceration. So far, she had survived thirty nights behind bars. If she managed to hold out another forty, she would get to her trial. It was the one and only thing that kept her going.
Reese held onto the hope that she could clear her name in court, despite the daunting challenge ahead. The culprit had been meticulous: fabricating evidence of Caroline's involvement in the nefarious schemes of the Umbrella Corporation, leaving incriminating proof at crime scenes, timing the killings when she had no alibi, and encouraging her to lie to colleagues about her relationships with the victims. Once her "betrayal" and lies were exposed, her downfall had been swift. The unsettling reality surpassed anything she could have ever anticipated. Her only ally, Captain Kate McKenna, was working hard to secure her release. Did she have a chance? Caroline's enemies numbered in the dozens; it could have been anyone...
Every day, Caroline fought to stay optimistic, holding onto faith in justice and the system. And each night rekindled her doubts, the fear of being locked away in Bedford Hills forever becoming more real. Could such an injustice be possible? Could the rest of the world be so fooled?
In moments like these, Caroline felt utterly forsaken. Treated as an outcast, devoid of any compassion. She had always been a solitary and secretive person, but here the isolation overwhelmed her. Likewise, she could trust no one, confide in no one, and as the nocturnal parade of rats and insects proved, her company was now that of the vermin.
