Arresting Attraction: How To Create A Criminal

Chapter Three

Some days, my job was easy. I worked in a small office, writing up reports and filing notices to various governments across the world. I ate lunch, in a small quaint room, where I had no care in the world. I listened to some music, and made sure everything I needed to do was done for the day.

Other days, my job was difficult. That would include the face-to-face interactions with inmates.

Like today.

And today, being my first day back, I was scheduled for Osgates Finest.

I grabbed my clipboard, with patient files attached, a pen and my ID badge, attaching it to my pant lapel for easy access. Outside the room was a trolley, empty and waiting.

I wheeled it to the nearest Medicinal Store room, and entered, using my ID. The scanner flashed three times green and let me in. Having treated the inmates for so long, I was more than familiar with what I needed to give them.

Grabbing what I needed from the shelves and drawers, in the right dosages, I placed them into small disposable containers, labelling the sides with the patient names.

My next destination was the cafeteria. When each of the drugs were administered, they were to be taken with food or water. Each morning, I would make my way to collect their predesigned meal and forward it on.

And, just like any other day, I did just that. Taking trays of what I needed from the cafeteria, and putting it on my trolley, writing down the diet on the patient files attached to my clipboard.

Then, and only then, was it time to see the patients.

I wheeled my trolley towards Max Hold 4, holding the clipboard, reading the details. The same things I already knew.

As I approached the gateway, an armed guard held out his hand for my ID. I handed it to him and thanked him, as he opened the gate, and allowed me to enter.

Along Max Hold 4 were armed guards, backs against walls, facing the cells opposite to them. A couple of them say hello, some tried to start a conversation, others saying nothing at all, straight and arrogant.

I came along to Cell 17, parking my trolley to the right of the cell and taking a tray from the trolley. On it was a liquified concoction, which was soon followed by a little container of blue drugs.

"Morning," I chirped.

The officer monitoring the cell didn't say anything, merely unlocking the cell door and gesturing for me to enter.

The cell was grimy. Small. A bed, a sink, a chair and that was pretty much it. The walls were bland, there was no window and it was quiet.

Sitting on the bed, one hand cuffed to the wall was Leroy French.

"Morning Leroy," I smiled.

I balanced the tray on one hand, as I grabbed the chair, dragging it over to Leroy's bed. Leroy was a low risk criminal, a clever, low risk criminal, when put in the right environment.

"Morning," Leroy mumbled, fiddling with his hands, not looking up, "What have you got for me today?"

I sat down and offered him the little container of blue pills, "You're the master chemist. You tell me."

Leroy was easily stimulated. And he was clever. He loved guessing, and could guess any chemical formulation ever created.

He looked up at me and reached for the sedative, which I handed to him.

He brought it to his nose, smelt it, then downed it without liquid.

"Xanax, 25mg, Not a brand name, guessing by the texture," he blinked.