T H I R T Y N I N E

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~ Paint It, Black ~
~ day 92 ~
• C H E Y E N N E •

I take my time sitting down on my bed, bringing my knees to my chest. My migraine did nothing but magnify times 10 more since Harley and Livewire ambushed me in my room. Other than the fact that they gave me shock "therapy", everything about what happened hurt. I was supposed to be smarter, stronger, more alert. It made me feel like everything that I was never existed. I knew that deep down it happened because I'm not healthy, but what if it wasn't because of that? What if I really was weak? When I first got here, I could take on multiple fully armored guards all at once, but now I can't even take on two girls my height or a couple inches taller than me. What if I never got back to who I used to be? Not that I would ever need it again here in prison, but I wouldn't be able to defend myself against Harley and Livewire. Up until I either died or Harley or Livewire escaped, I was their personal punching bag.

All my joints ached and I was almost sure I had an untreated concussion. No matter how much I begged and cried and bled, I was just the girl that cried wolf. There's no way she got out of her cage, Cheyenne. Stop being a troublemaker, inmate. Stop starting fights.

I know that head wounds bleed more than others, they look a lot worse than they actually are, but my head bled a lot. I was dizzy for hours and no one would take me to medical. I slowly stand up from my spot on the cot and stalk toward the small window in my cell door, peeking out to see the guard standing outside of my cell.

"Hey," I mumble, tilting my head. The guard ignores me completely, something he and the rest of the guards managed to learn how to do. "Hey. Can I please go to the bathroom?"

A minute or so passes before the guard finally folds and turn around to open the door. "Back away, inmate."

I take several steps back, waiting patiently as he unlocked the door. Knowing how everything was supposed to happen, I put my hands behind my back and let him cuff me. He escorts me out of the room, leading me down the long hallways of Seg.

I look up at the ceiling of the prison, examining the wall to wall skylight. If it weren't for the officer guiding me, my steps may have slowed slightly. It was a cloudy day, but the sun was still peeking through. I wonder if it's raining or shining in Gotham. I close my eyes, remembering what little I could from Gotham, but it was nothing but the bad memories that lead me here. I open my eyes again, my eyes till set on the ceiling, but just as I open my eyes, I see a figure move out of the corner of my eye. Furrowing my eyebrows, I glance at the C.O., wondering if he saw what I saw.

"Did you..." I start, this time for sure noticing another figure moving across the skylight. "Did you just see that?"

The guard glances at me before looking up at the skylight. He barely even looks as he shakes his head, focusing back on walking me to the restroom. "I don't know what your aim is right now, Inmate, but I would advise you not to try it. I won't fall for it like the other officers might."

I clench my jaw, staring down at my feet timidly before glancing up at the skylight again. Maybe I was just seeing things. I wouldn't be surprised.

"Isn't, um..." I start, not able to get a grasp on my words for a moment. "Isn't a girl C.O. supposed to take me to the bathroom?"

"There is no girl C.O. on the floor right now, inmate," he drones, his grip on my arm gentle as he guides me down another long hallway. Although gentle, I still stumbled. Every day, the slower I move, the longer it takes me to process, I begin to believe I will no longer be able to be who I was.

Just as we're about to head down a flight of stairs to the bathroom, I watch C.O. Jacoby come up the stairs, her eyes locked on me. I stare at her, feeling anger and hatred bubble up to the surface. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be in the position I'm in right now. Hesitantly, she stops the both of us in the middle of the stairs.

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