Take It Up With Somebody That Cares

Chapter 1: Vivian

Today was the day; or so I hoped. Something seemed to always come up, so my release would always be pushed back. Four more freakin' months in this dump. Four more freaking' months I had to spend in here for the stupidest things.

I sit on my bed in my 'room', and clench my jaw. I clamp my fists together hard. My eyes staring at the door, waiting for him to come in and tell me that I'm not going back today. Waiting for him to crush my soul once more.

I look down, and out of the darkness, I can vaguely see the hideous color of orange that I've seen everyday for the past year and a half. I'm sick of it. The sight of it makes me want to barf. When I finally get out of here, it will be a breath of fresh air just to get out of this jumpsuit.

I heard footsteps. Faint, but there. They stopped. The little light that was outside shown through the cracks of my door. The doorknob creaked as it slowly turned. This was it. The moment I'd been waiting for for the past two months.

A policeman stood in the doorway. The policeman. It was like he was specifically assigned to me. He was always with me. Guiding me everywhere, breaking up fights between me and other people here, and always the one telling me how long I would stay in here.

I closed my eyes and looked down. What was it this time? One month? Two? Three? No, it couldn't be that long. I hadn't gotten in many fights, only two, and I behaved, so one month tops.

"Green! Come with me!" His deep, raspy voice bellowed, making so the whole floor could hear him.

I got up, silently. He put handcuffs around my wrist. He walked out the door, and I followed him down the long hallway, looking down at the floor. Tile after tile. I couldn't even look at my 'friends', who were looking out their windows.

They weren't really my friends. They were just in here for minor crimes like me, and weren't the tough ones. We figured that we had to stick together.

We first met when we were out for our hour of fresh air each day, and some girls were picking on some smaller girls, and started beating them up. I distracted them, so they could get up and run away. We sort of hanged out, but it was more complicated.

I'm so sick of this place. Sick of the orange jumpsuits. Sick of the handcuffs. Sick of the cells. Sick of how everyone treated you like you deserved all of this, and much worse. How everyone made you feel ashamed for nothing. How they broke your soul within the first week. How they made you give up on hope.

The policeman opened a steel door that lead to an office. He started talking, but I didn't listen. I had to be getting out now, because I've never gotten this far before. Literally.

"Are you listening, Green?" I hate how he called me by my last name. Like I was just my last name, like I had no identity. Like I had no way of being unique.

I nodded, barely listening. I tuned him out for the rest of the time.

"I hope you understand..."

"People will..."

"I'm not going..."

"You will be released..." Wait!

"Please sign here." He pushed forward a packet, and pointed to the bottom of the last page. I didn't even read it, I just did my best signature with the handcuffs.

We then walked out of the room, and he guided me out of the room, and then lead me to where my stuff was from when I came.

* * *

A faded pink 'Life Is Good' T-shirt, old, distressed jeans, converse, and a grey hoodie. That's all I had. That's all I came in with. But I came out with much more. Stories. Stories about the horrors. The cells, the people, the daily routine.