A Year in Juvenile Detention : Carl Gallagher

Unfair

The two-month countdown hung heavily in the air. Carl felt it with every passing day, the anticipation of freedom mingled with the frustration of his current life in juvie. He was determined to make it through unscathed, but the reality of his situation was starting to wear him down, especially with the guards treating him unfairly.

It was a typical afternoon when Carl found himself in the common area, trying to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. He and Areum were seated at a table, engaged in a lighthearted conversation, when a pair of guards strode in, their eyes scanning the room like hawks. Carl had seen these two before—Thompson and Reyes—two guards who loved to exert their authority and intimidate the inmates.

"Gallagher!" Officer Thompson barked, his voice booming across the room.

Carl felt his stomach drop. "Yeah?" he replied, keeping his tone even.

Thompson marched over, a scowl on his face. "What do you think you're doing, acting all chummy with this girl? You know the rules about mingling."

"It's just a conversation," Carl said, trying to remain calm. "I'm not causing any trouble."

"Not causing trouble?" Thompson sneered, glancing at Areum. "Looks like you're breaking the rules to me. Maybe we need to remind you of your place."

"Seriously?" Carl shot back, his patience thinning. "I'm just talking. You can't treat me like a child."

Reyes stepped in, crossing his arms and leaning in. "You think you're tough, Gallagher? You're still just a punk in here. We can make your life miserable if you don't watch it."

Carl's jaw clenched, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You think that scares me? I've been in worse situations than this."

Thompson laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You think you're some kind of tough guy because you threw a punch at Kyle? That won't last long. You're still in our territory, and we don't tolerate disrespect."

"Disrespect? You're the ones treating me like a criminal for just talking!" Carl snapped back, his voice rising.

Areum placed a hand on his arm, her eyes wide with concern. "Carl, just ignore them. It's not worth it."

But Carl couldn't let it go. "No, it's not right! You guys act like you're better than us just because you wear a badge. We're just trying to get through this."

Thompson stepped closer, invading Carl's space. "You think you're so tough? We'll see how tough you are when you're in isolation for a week. You don't get to talk back to me, Gallagher."

Carl's heart raced, anger and impatience coursing through him. He only had two months left, and he wasn't going to let these guards ruin it for him. "I'm not afraid of isolation. I'm not afraid of you," he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him.

Thompson leaned in closer, the smirk on his face growing. "You should be. We have all the power here. Just remember that."

With that, the two guards turned and walked away, leaving Carl seething with anger. Areum squeezed his arm gently, trying to calm him down. "Just breathe, Carl. They're just trying to provoke you."

"Yeah, well, they're doing a damn good job of it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm so sick of being treated like a criminal for just trying to live my life in here."

"Just two more months," Areum reminded him softly. "We can make it through. I promise."

Carl nodded, but the unease in his chest refused to dissipate. The unfair treatment from the guards was becoming unbearable, and he felt the walls closing in around him.

Later that week, things only seemed to escalate. Carl was walking back from a group therapy session, trying to process everything that had been discussed, when he ran into Thompson again. The guard was standing in the hallway, arms crossed, waiting for him.

"Look who it is," Thompson said, a malicious smile creeping across his face. "Think you can just walk around here like you own the place?"

"I'm just heading back to my cell," Carl said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Not so fast," Thompson said, blocking his path. "You think you can just skip past me without saying hello?"

Carl felt his patience snap again. "I don't have to say anything to you. Just let me pass."

Thompson leaned in, his voice low and threatening. "You want to act tough, Gallagher? You need to remember who's in charge here. You're still a kid in a cage."

Carl's fists clenched, the urge to fight bubbling up again. "I'm almost out of here. You can't keep me in this hellhole forever."

"Maybe not, but I can make your remaining time here a living nightmare," Thompson retorted, stepping closer, intimidation in his voice.

Carl felt the heat rising in his chest. He couldn't let this guy get to him, especially now when he was so close to freedom. But Thompson's words were a reminder of the oppressive nature of his situation, and the feeling of being trapped was suffocating.

"Just remember, Gallagher," Thompson said, smirking. "You might think you're tough, but I can ruin you if I want."

"Bring it on," Carl said, forcing himself to stay calm even as his anger boiled beneath the surface. He finally pushed past Thompson, feeling the guard's eyes boring into his back.

Once he was in his cell, he slammed the door behind him, his heart racing. He paced back and forth, his mind swirling with thoughts of the guards' unfair treatment and the impatience eating away at him. He was done being pushed around, especially with only two months left.

He sat on his bed, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. He couldn't let this place get to him. He was so close to getting out, and he needed to stay focused on that.

But as the days dragged on, Carl felt like he was losing control. Every unfair encounter with the guards only intensified his need to escape this place. He had to find a way to push through, to hold onto his sanity while dealing with the frustration.