Locked Up

Chapter 1 (Revised)

"God, that hurts!" I yell at the old guard who roughly pulled me out of the security van by my hand-cuffs. I'm already fitted into my hideous, faded black jumpsuit, which has obviously been used in the past. With my rude tone, he decides to shove me into the building with great force.

"The warden wants to see you before we lock you up," the guard says to me, leading me into an office with a bit less power than before. He requires me to sit in the chair in front of the desk. He quickly switches my cuff from the ones I currently wear to the pair connected to the chair. As he is doing this, I realize he said the word 'warden'. Usually, correctional facilities have doctors, and people to help you get better. The room smells strongly of old perfume and a hint of blood. The room is stuffy, making it hard to breathe, as if the air has its hands wrapped tightly around my neck. Although, I suppose I must get used to this.

"Hello-" the warden looks down to read something off the file she holds in her hands. "Hello Shyla, I'm glad to meet you."

I scoff at her, as if. She pretends to be happy, I can tell by the glare she is giving me she'd rather me be dead. I just want to get out of here; just her presence makes everyone tense, even the large guard to my left.

"Please, you act as if it is a good thing that I'm here. You may need to re-evaluate what your job is, sweetie," I say with a smirk.

"Smith, take her to her cell," They cold-blooded lady tells the buff guard.

"Yes madam Ezier," The guard nervously says to the Warden before taking me to my cell. I take my time getting up, flashing the so-called warden a cheesy smile. The guard, Smith, grabs my arm and drags me out of the small room.

"You need to watch your mouth, you have no idea what she is capable of," Smith warns me with clenched teeth. He quickly locks me up when we get to my cell. The more of this place I see, the more obvious it is that this place is nothing like I had imagined.

The walls are grey and dusty; it's obvious that no one cleans them. The ground is the same cement, which radiates a cold feeling into the small area.

The bed is the worst part of the room though. I thought that it would be decent, like one of those crappy mattresses I had at camp when I was twelve. I was obviously wrong. It is a cot, tan in color and completely revolting. A completely worn down cot, that looks like it came out of a dumpster. I fear that if I sit on it, it may collapse. On top of the 'bed', is a thin blanket that would hardly keep an infant warm. I don't know how long I will be here, but I'm definitely going to hate this place more than I thought.

I test out the wobbly cot by slowly settling my weight onto it. Well, what now? It's just me and my thoughts. I can hear shouts throughout the whole floor: people claiming to be innocent, disobeying orders and many words of profanity. Time passes as I sit, tapping my foot against the chilly floor. One of the things that I really can't stand is the unknown, not have a defined schedule. Yeah, I'm sure there is some sort of order here, a sequence for each day, but I have no idea what it is. I quickly get removed from my thoughts when a raspy voice interrupts my concentration.

"If you'd stop tapping your foot, that would be magnificent," the deep voice snaps at me, not sounding pleased. My foot instantly stops at his words, almost as if it was a natural reflex. "Thank the Lord, it has been driving me insane for the last ten minutes."

"I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone else was in here. You've been completely silent," I say, almost defensively.

"Well, I am here. Now that you have got that through your head, silence would be great," he request harshly.

"Why are you so rude?" I ask him. Really, who does this guy think he is?

"Why are you so irritating?" he questions me back.

"Well, maybe because I just got locked up in a mental alyssum. You seem to be having the same issue," I reply, proud of my response. He then shuts up, receding from the conversation. The area now becomes awkwardly quiet.

Only moment later, I hear his voice again, "What's your name?" He asks, which sounds more like a demand.

"Oh, I see how this is. Now you suddenly want to be buddy-buddy with me," I respond with a snarky attitude.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Tell me your name? Please?" he says in a much softer tone.

"My name is Shyla, what's yours?"

"Uh, my name is Ace," he says, clearing his voice. Ace. Hmm, unique name but it somehow works well with his gruff voice.

"Could I ask you a few questions Ace?" I respond. If there is a good way to discover how this place actually is, it is to ask someone within the source.

"About what?" he answers, replying with his own question.

"Just a few things about this place. How does everything work?" I voice, hoping to finally get some information.

"It's really not complicated. There are two groups at Coxsackie, you are most likely in the first one. The first group is mostly all of the new people; you will be under pretty high security for the first few months. Your group has earlier meals and you have to see the psychologist every other day. Visitors are welcome on the third Friday of every month. Now, because you are in the first groups, you have one goal; getting into the group I'm in. Once you are in the group I'm in, you have a lot more opportunities. They have different jobs around here that you will have an opportunity to par take in. Trust me, it is a lot better than it sounds. My favorite thing is that we have a free hour, which we can visit the library on the main floor. Everything is just simpler. At this point, I only see the psychologist twice a month," he educates me.

"How do I get into the second group?" I remark with curiosity.

"It's simple, really. All you have to do is act normal, which doesn't seem hard for you. Getting into this group is all about trust. Get people to trust you, start with someone like your guard," Ace says, making it seem extremely easy.

"Why is it so quiet around our cells? I can hear shouts down the way," I question.

"I was the only person staying in this section before you came," I hear him say. I then hear the squeak of his cot as he sits down. With that sentence, our conversation ends for the night. Despite our rough start, Ace has really helped settle my nerves about being here. For the rest of the night, my mind wonders through several questions.

Who is Ace?

What does he look like?

Why is he here?

But the main question that was in my mind was simple, yet so complex.

Why won't he leave my mind?

{Hello! Thanks if you are reading this, if anyone is haha. I would also like to thank Natalie, the author of 'Psychotic' because she helped me out a lot. She has given me advice to fix this up, and it means a lot! So, at some point I'll put this link to her story on the side. I'm not on a computer so I can't now. Again thank you if you have read this, and please tell me what you think. If you don't mind :)

P.S. I just revised this entire chapter on 9/16/14. If it doesn't make sense, I am sorry. I am trying to rewrite the first 5 chapters as fast as I can.

~Anna/@teendayslouis}