The Demise of Megan Dewtrop

2.Or not writing

Or, as it turns out, not towards me, but towards a very petite girl wearing grey sweatpants and a lime green prison issue shirt, a large D was printed on it in black. She was carrying a roll of loo paper, casually.

"Oh, Hi guys?!" It's as if she's just come across us in the park...She was smiling eerily, as she dropped the roll and it thudded softly on the floor, a white trail fluttering after it.

"Megan!" The silent looks-like-a-guard-but-not-actually-a-guard, strutted past. The guard that had passed me earlier was now standing oblique to the girl and holding a taser feebly out in front of his paunchy belly.

"You know, I've done nothing wrong." She was staring at me. Not just in my general direction, but at ME.

"Hands on your head." The toilet paper rolled carefully away from her. My eyes flickered between it and her.

She took a step towards me, the guard with the taser did the same. "I needed the loo, you see. But then it was the end of Elliot's shift or something because he wasn't there anymore." She shrugged and took another step. This time the guard didn't dare move. "And then," She licked her lips, just staring, standing nochelantly with hands in her pockets. "The alarm sounded and I just waited there on my knees for a while."

"Hands on your head!"

"Come on, why can't you just come and get me!? Huh?" She was smiling at the ground now. All smiles and stares and shrugs. I detected no panic in her voice, despite the fact that she had a weapon pointed at her and was surrounded by guards. "I barely weigh 50 kilos, you could push me over in a breeze." She raised her eyes, icy blue, she was mesmerising. Shit, she's literally right in front of you now. Gotta move.. gotta move..

"However, you're all just sat there, shitting yourselves." She spoke with a slow elegance, looking at each person in the room in turn.

The alarm had stopped, as I said. And other girls were standing at their doors, watching the scene play out. Good entertainment for them, I suppose.

"Do you think I have a shank.... or something?" She's mental, my gosh. "I mean, maybe.... I do." Placing her hands back in her pockets, she made fists. "I could be holding one now, and as soon as one of you gets near me...." Her words were almost seductive, sexual in a way. Daring some one to get close to her. She tapped the toe of her plimsoles into the floor.

"BOOM!" I jumped then, her low voice filled the POD. "Knife sticking out from between your ribs."

"I said, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!" The poor sod was sweating now. Knowing that he would be the one bleeding on the floor if things went to far.

She turned her nose into the air and thought for a second. "Simon says: No." She smirked to herself, pleased by her own clever remark. Hands burrowed deeper into her pockets.

The man fired the taser, it missed. I let out a disappointed oomf and found myself being dragged backwards yet again by the hand on my arm until our backs thudded against the opposite wall.

"Hurry up, Megan." The not-guard muttered. The girl shot him an evil glare. If looks could kill, I'm sure this girl would be locked up for the rest of her sorry life. If she isn't already, I mean.

Exhaling, Megan pulled her hands clumsily out of her pockets and into the air, palms open, fingers spread, before settling slowly onto her knees. Her face crumpled slightly as the bony joint crunched slowly into the unforgiving floor. The flaunting face quickly reappeared. This is like something off the telly... I thought.

"Head, please." The quiet man spoke again. The failed taser applicator stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. I saw Megan wince, I'm guessing the hand was more than just heavy. Her hands were now clasped loosely over her mousy hair.