Mixtape

Heathens

"Alright, take him to cell thirty-three. He's with Grassi." I looked down at the orange jumpsuit, wondering whether it complimented my skin tone. It probably didn't. I didn't get long to ponder the thought as I was shocked out of my thoughts as I was grabbed roughly, then yanked forward and down the hall by my arm. It hurt. I decided that I didn't care.

I didn't care about any of it, these stupid court hearings and the dumb lawyers trying to deny what I'd done and trying to lessen my sentence. I only got fourteen years instead of life, but it was still enough to make me question what the point of living after that time is over will be.

But this was prison, and showing any kind of weakness or fear would automatically paint a target on my back. So, I pushed out my chest, straightened my shoulders and moved so that the guard was leading me instead of dragging me. We passed a lot of cells that I knew had hardened criminals, guys who had been in here for months or years. I didn't look at a single one of them, I kept to myself and hoped that maybe I'd be able to build up a mysterious but scary feeling amongst the boys I'd be spending the foreseeable future with.

We stopped after a while and the guard let go of my cuffed hands for a moment to retrieve his key before shoving it in the lock and sliding the metal bars open. He undid my cuffs and put them in his pocket, watching me like he expected me to beat him up as soon as the handcuffs were off.

"Get in, Hoying. Your cell mate is Mitchell Grassi. Good luck. By the way, you're pretty so if you want anything special just come find me when you have free time." He slid a finger across my bottom lip and I clearly didn't move fast enough after that so he shoved me in and I stumbled to the bunk bed, climbing to the top because I knew from the lump in the bottom that it was occupied.

"Yes, thank you." I said quietly and the sounds of rolling metal filled my ears as he slammed the door shut.

"Call me sir, you slut." I growled and got up off the bed, rushing over to him and reaching a hand through the bars to grab his neck.

I watched my knuckles turn white as I gripped the column of his throat and pulled him closer. "What the fuck did you say to me?"

"I said call me sir or I'll have you in solitary. Slut." He managed to choke out while still sounding mean and harsh.

"Do it. I'd rather never see another human being for the rest of my life than have to get on my knees for you." My grip tightened as I spat in his face and immediately let go of him, watching him drop halfway to the floor before he managed to collect himself and walk away. I was disgusted yet impressed with my own courage as I climbed up easily and let my body collapse tiredly on the top bunk.

It was silent for a while, before the boy in the bunk below spoke to me for the first time.

"That was hot."

"Whatever." I scoffed and rolled onto my side, only then realising how uncomfortable these beds actually were. 

"Lay on top of your blankets. It's never cold enough to need them and they make the bed more comfortable." 

I took the advice and decided that it was definitely an improvement. 

"Thanks." I was trying to remember what I knew about my cellmate. The name Mitchell Grassi rang a bell and I knew I'd seen him on the news at some point. "How long you been in here?" I asked, keeping my voice tight and trying not to sound too curious. 

"Let's see, I'm twenty years old now, so... four years." 

"Oh." 

"I'd suggest not asking everyone you come across, blondie."