Your eyes widened in shock as your head flew the other way, your cheek still throbbing from the stinging sensation.
What?
"You think you're funny?"
The male figure towered over you as you froze there. On your knees as you looked at the bruises on your hands formed by handcuffs on your hands.
.... Didn't you die? What the hell was this?
The stinging sensation you felt was too real to merely be a dream.
Your lips quivered, a wave of shock hitting you as you realised that the man in front of you wore prison clothing. And so were you. The cold floor to which you were sat didn't help much with the brooding atmosphere either.
You looked at the guy in front of you.
This guy who is trying to intimidate you. He had a chunky build, consisting more of fat rather than muscles. Judging by the prison uniform, this must be juvenile prison.
What the hell? Why were you in prison? This is not a dream right?
Thousands of questions rushed over your head. Yet you couldn't find the answer to any of them.
You looked around the room.
A bunch of scrawny and average looking teenagers sat on the floor, with their mouth sealed shut as they all looked at you. Which means that the guy who slapped you earlier must probably be the head of the cell.
But something was weird. How come you had handcuffs on, when no one else in the room did?
