Less Than Survive || BMC Prison AU

1 | Arrival

Middle Borough Penitentiary, the large, blocky letters above the iron-cast archway had read.

ᗧ • • •

Jeremy was restless.

The whole afternoon had been a blur. The guards had searched him, taken his mugshot, checked through the few belongings he had been permitted (comprised of a toothbrush, some bed sheets, a book and a pillow), and then stuffed him in a temporary holding cell. He had been in and out of cells like these for the past three days, and the prospect of waiting even longer in this tiny box of a room was not a welcome one.

The cell was small and barren, affording him not even enough space to spread his lanky arms out without his fingertips brushing against the walls, with nothing but a metal bench bolted to the floor and a small window that looked out onto a view of the prison yard, where a few inmates milled around, doing whatever prisoners did in their free time. Jeremy guessed he'd find out what that was soon enough.

He sat down on the cold, steel bench and waited, because that was really all he could do. He hadn't eaten since a sparse breakfast of cold oatmeal, but worse than the hunger was the raw, gnawing tirade of emotions churning in his gut. Anxiety, fear, humiliation,  grief, and regret chief among them; that this, this was all his life would ever amount to, sheerly because of— well. Because of what he had done. He couldn't bear thinking about it. It was all too imminent, all too real.

Eventually, with a click of a lock and the grinding of metal, the door slid open and Jeremy jumped to his feet, eager to leave.

"Not so fast," the guard grumbled, stepping into the room. According to the words embossed on the badge pinned to the front of her uniform, her name was Madeline. He couldn't make out her last name, but it looked vaguely French. "I'm just here to give you these." She held out a neatly folded orange jumpsuit, and waited impatiently for Jeremy to take it. As soon as she had divested herself of the clothes, she turned to leave.
"Wait," Jeremy called after her. She looked back at him, expectantly.

"Uh—when will I be able to get out of here?"

She shrugged. "Few hours, maybe a few days, who knows. Reyes is slow with paperwork, and you aren't exactly his top priority." With that, she left the cell and locked the door before Jeremy could say anything else.

He sighed and sat back down on his bench. This was not going to be fun.

He removed his clothes and unbuttoned the front of the jumpsuit, which he pulled on reluctantly. The material was scratchy and stiff, but it fit relatively well, although the pant legs weren't quite long enough for him, leaving a fraction of his ankles exposed. He left his old clothes folded on the floor, and assumed that would probably be the last he'd see of them.

Jeremy lay down on the bench and used his street clothes as a makeshift pillow, hoping to maybe get a little sleep. He had to curl his long legs up to do it, and even so, his feet and ankles still dangled off the side. It was in this uncomfortable position, on the equally uncomfortable bench, that Jeremy was finally able to slip into a fitful slumber.

Despite the guard's assertion that it could potentially take days for Jeremy to be transferred, as far as he could judge from the rapidly darkening sky outside, it had only been a few more insufferable hours before the door opened again, with the same jarring grinding as before.

ᗧ • • •

The guards shunted Jeremy along none too gently. Hands cuffed in front of him, the ominous presence of the guns in their holsters, he could do nothing but move forward. A tired, still functioning part of his brain took note of their conversation.

"...The warden's been all over the place lately..."

"Yeah, Reyes is a strange one...always taking hot pocket breaks. Hates his job."

"Yeah..."

"I could care less though, long as I get paid at the end of the day."

"Mhm."

They passed under the softly humming ceiling lights, down a long, tiled hallway. It was much more industrial than he had expected it to be, judging from books and movies, almost more akin to a hospital than the grimy, stone walls he had anticipated. The whole place had a stale air of claustrophobic expectancy, of people long left waiting in dusty cells.

They turned and entered what Jeremy presumed was his cell block, and his home for the next twelve years. He swallowed, his mouth dry.

It was a high-ceilinged atrium, really more like a hall than a room, rectangular and lit by more of those humming ceiling lights. The floor was comprised of cement and the walls were paneled, but the most notable feature of the room was the cell doors. They ran the length of the room, situated a few feet or so from the next, each like a toothy, barred mouth that opened into the personal hell of the individual unlucky enough to be incarcerated within.

He felt the eyes of the prisoners watching him from inside their barred domains, the way a group of cats might watch a fish flopping in their midst, and the message was clear.

This was their world now.

The first guard opened the door to what a Jeremy assumed was to be his permanent cell, and stepped to out of the way for him, almost, ironically, the way a valet would welcome a guest at a hotel. 'Your room, sir?' Jeremy imagined him saying.

He stepped inside and heard the door clang shut behind him with an awful finality.

His new cell was small, though larger than before, and sparsely furnished, with nothing but a metal cot with a hard looking mattress bolted to the floor, a metal sink and toilet, and a small, plastic chair in front of a desk secured to the wall.

There were no sounds but the humming of the industrial lights, and a soft rustling was the only clue as to the movement of other prisoners within their respective cells.
Jeremy sat down on the edge of the cot, and tried to comprehend the fact that this was his home now.

He felt like the room was eating him alive.

ᗧ • • •

A/N || Hhh I didn't really know much about prisons going into this, (I did research ofc, but still), so apologies if I got anything wrong. qwq Also did you appreciate my Pacman dividers? Eheheheh—