Inmates (A Joe Sugg Fanfiction)

7. Vulnerable

Vulnerable

1. exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.

The pain began to numb along with my skin. The chill from the ice pack on my swollen ankle had caused the nervous heat radiating from the rest of my body to feel like I was consumed in flames. My leg was propped up on a chair as a member of the medical staff in the jail inspected my ankle.

"It doesn't look broken, just bruised."

"Are you sure? I swear I heard it snap." I winced as she prodded it once more.

"I'm sure." She nodded, picking up her over-sized bag and handing Mr Davids a packet of what I can only assume were pain killers. "Ensure that she gets one of these every day after lunch and two after dinner."

He nodded and watched her leave, his eyes grazing over her backside as she left. I turned my nose up at the perverted actions but quickly became neutral again as he slid into the chair in front of me. A desk was separating us but I still felt exposed and vulnerable, especially with an injury.

"The only reason you are here is because we have some information about your case. Your unacceptable behaviour the past 48 hours has been noted and put on your record. I'm sure Dawkins has explained to you our strict rule policy." He spoke, holding a large brown envelope.

My gaze drifted over to where Dawkins was stood in the top corner of the room, his signature smirk plastered all over his face. There was a smudge of mustard on the front of his shirt which ultimately made him even more disgusting to look at.

"Okay so, during you trial you were very clearly asked if you were or have ever been under the influence of any drugs or alcoholic substances around the time of the crime and what did you say?"

"I said no. I've never done drugs and the last time I drank was around Christmas." I answered truthfully. The trial, though the day was a blur was one of the worst days of my life. I had to stand there, alone and afraid being accused of things that I had no memory or recollection of.

"Then explain to me this. We received the results from your blood test this morning and guess what we found?" Davids said, looking me dead in the eye. I panicked, unaware of whether he was expecting a reply or not but the look on his freshly shaven face told me that anything I said right now would probably make my situation worse. He answered my question by taking a piece of paper out of the envelope and placed it on the desk, sliding it over to me. The first thing I noticed was one word. One big, bold word standing out like a vegetarian in a meat shop.

POSITIVE

"Positive? Wha-I don't...I don't understand." I spoke, my voice coming out at just above a whisper.

"Positive!" Mr Dawkins slammed his fist down on the desk, his voice raised causing me to jump. "Positive meaning you lied! Positive meaning that you, Miss Deyes, were under the influence of drugs!"

"No, no this can't be possible! I've never taken drugs in my life!"

"The evidence is right here Autumn! You can't lie your way out of this!"

I dropped the piece of paper back onto the table and rested my head in my hands. My head was pounding from stress, shock, the lot. Drugs. The one thing, apart for smoking, that I promised my Mother I would never do. I must have been on a lot to not remember taking them. It's just...something didn't quite add up. How can I not remember being addicted? How can I not remember taking them? Nothing in my mind was confirming to me I had any way of knowing that I had taken/was taking these drugs.