Blaze POV
Juvie Hall. A place where us young offenders get locked up. Where our freedom is robbed and all of a sudden we no longer have names. We're nothing more than numbers dressed in orange uniforms. We have no personality and we're only seen as disappointment on today's society. We're outcasts, an extra who are locked up so we're out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind.
My name is Blaze. I'm seventeen years old, I'm tall, around six feet tall and I have black hair that goes over my dull brown eyes.
And I have been locked up in Juvie Hall for shop lifting and being in possession of drugs. Yes, I admit it. I was a drug addict. But since I haven't consumed any for months, and after months of counselling, I had gotten over my addiction. I guess Juvie Hall was good for something.
It's been nearly a year now, and in a month, I would be released. And I'd finally have my taste of freedom.
But still, a month in this hell hole was still a long time.
After dinner, I marched into my cell, trying for once to avoid all the other inmates. I really wanted for once to be able to go through a day without having to break people bones and potentially getting mine broken as well.
Walking into my cell, I noticed two guards standing in the middle of the room.
"What are you doing in here?" I asked. "I don't have any drugs on me. Or any knives!"
"We're not searching you," one of the guards replied, his expression bored and annoyed at the same time. "You're getting a new cell mate."
I scowled at this. The last cell mate I had was a complete whack job, but he had ended up in a mental home. I didn't want some other weirdo to share my cell with.
And then a boy walked in, followed by two other guards, who were holding his shoulders tightly. The boy had his hands hand cuffed behind his back. He looked deathly pale, his head hung low and his jet black hair covered his face. He looked as if he was younger than me, around fifteen or sixteen but he was around my height. Maybe even a little taller.
The Guards led him to the end of the room and they took his hand cuffs off. He then raised his hands above his head as they did a body search on him.
I smiled to myself as I remembered them doing the same thing to me when I had first arrived.
But then they took out a metal detector. And this alarmed me, since they only did that if the person had done something really serious. And this boy in front of me must have done something very serious.
After they searched him thoroughly and he was changed into the identical orange uniform, the Guards left.
I watched him as he sat down on the bed, and brought his knees up to his face, hugging them tightly as he rested his head on his knees. He was rocking slightly and looked as if he was talking to himself.
"Oi," I said as I nudged him. "I'm Blaze. And what's your name?"
He jumped and looked at me, and looked as if he only just noticed me. That's when I realised his eyes were a bright blue colour.
"What's your name?" I said, loader this time.
He slammed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his ears.
"Leave me alone," he whispered.
"Geez mate, I was only asking."
Great, I thought. I have to share my cell with another mental case.
"My name's Jeremy."
I looked up and saw that he no longer had his eyes close but was still rocking himself. He was still curled up in the corner and his eyes looked terrified.
He must be shy.
I smirked to myself, thinking that he must be a first timer. He must have done something by mistake or he could have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.
"So how old are you Jeremy?"
"Fifteen," he said. "Turning sixteen next month."
I nodded. I could easily tell he was most likely to be an easy target. He'd be picked on and beaten to death. Not that it bothered me. After all... I was one of those bullies.
"And what are you in here for?" I asked.
He looked at me, his expression innocent and scared.
"Shoplifting? Vandalism?" I asked. "Or were you at the wrong place at the wrong time."
All of a sudden his expression changed from innocence and fear to something... different. He was grinning and he looked blood thirsty.
It was almost scary and alluring at the same time.
"I'm a murderer," he whispered. "I stabbed my parents to death."
