Lockdown. [Youtube Fanfiction]

Chapter One

Chapter One: The new guy

Bodil clawed at the uniform, feeling it scratch against his body, leaving what felt like a rash behind. Sitting in his cell, he shifted his position on the cot. A thin blanket, and what seemed to qualify as just a pillow case.

Oh, what fun.

He sighed and let his clothing go, coming to the conclusion that no matter what, the uniform will always be uncomfortable. Looking around, he only saw dark gray cement, and bars. That was everywhere. Besides all the identical cells that were filling the prison. No one had been in any, everyone being on 'duty' or out in the yard.

He hadn't even been here for an hour, and he knew he wasn't going to like it here. He knew he didn't belong. Why? He was innocent. "That's what everyone says." Sure, yeah. What if it was true?

He could argue about that with someone forever. He knew how it felt. To be innocent, yet punished for the doings of another person. Always happened in school, little kid wouldn't take the blame, so you ended up in timeout. This was different. There was no person to take the blame when needed. No one knew who it was, they all suspected that it was him. There was no timeout when you're an adult. Death penalty or a life in prison. Both were equally terrible. Go insane in a place full of convicted criminals, or lose your life. Neither was fun, that's for sure.

Bodil gave out a sigh and began to tug at his uniform once more. It began to chaff against his skin. It hurt and itched like hell. How could someone live in these?

The Bulgarian stood and stepped out of his 'living space', glancing at the other cells that surrounded his. They all seemed to have something in them. Something of personal value. That'd mean it would tell something about that person, right? Why not learn about his 'neighbors' now?

Bodil leaned to his left and peeked into the cell. Sticky notes were placed on top of everything. All saying "Don't touch this," "Don't touch that," shit like those. Seemed this person was really private about his stuff.

Shaking his head, he leaned to his right, looking in. Pictures upon pictures were decorated upon the cell's walls. Either with a group, two people, or that one person. He seemed like a nice guy in all these photos. But this was the 'Murder-Block' within the prison. Every cell that surrounded Bodil, held a vicious killer.

He frowned at the thought of murderers all around him. He decided that maybe wasn't the time to snoop around. Taking in a breath he started back towards his cell. Clambering onto the cot, he covered himself with the blanket and shut his eyes, forcing himself into slumber.

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The brunet woke up to the grinding sound of the cell doors opening. He sat up and stretched, popping some muscles that were aching in his back. Yawning, he threw the blanket off and swung his legs over the cot, pushing himself up and off of the uncomfortable bunk. He edged towards the cell's entrance, peering out. Inmates were gathering outside, some still half asleep, others yawning but looking more lively than some.

Straightening himself up, Bodil stepped outside. Pausing once he heard an argument from the next cell. He peeked into the cells, a tall man with fluffy dark brown and mussed up hair stood in front of another man that had a lighter shade of brown for his shoulder length hair. The taller one seemed to be waving a sticky note in the other's face.

"I don't need a sticky note on my back!" The lighter brown haired man argued.

"Yeah you do! People will touch you if you don't have it on!"

"Why does it even matter?!"

"We're in prison! Please Biggums, I promise this will be the last time,"