The concrete walls and cement of this hellhole are inexplicably depressing, and the small springs from the worn out bed squeak, annoying me more than usual.
I sit up, hands in my lap, sighing. My life has become a boring routine, that consists of waking up to the same grey ceiling, walking through the same endless corridors, eating the same blob they call food here, and I sleep in the same uncomfortable bed everyday, nothing changing, and as I come to know, nothing out of the ordinary.
This past Tuesday was the only day that has been slightly different. A new prisoner. A new person, who now has the same boring life, like any other prisoner here. We always have new prisoners, maybe one or two everyday or every other day. But this guy... this guy was all I heard about in the lunch. There were a few stories I heard in the lunchroom that he shot his wife, and others were that he robbed a bank or something.
"What's his name?" I ask Kurt, who sits across from me.
Kurt has been my friend since the second week of my first prison year. I've been in prison for 4 years. He's given me pointers on how to protect myself in a place like this.
"Dane or something like that." He shrugs. I nod my head.
Dane. The name doesn't belong in a prison. It belongs in a university, studying to be a lawyer or doctor.
Wonder what he did to get into prison?
-
Wednesday I met him. His name wasn't Dane, it was Zayn. Strange name, but it still doesn't belong in a prison.
Okay, usually I don't check out prisoners, but this dude was beautiful. Just perfect, head to toe. Small stubble stained his chin, his eyes were a beautiful brown, and his hair was styled up into a quiff naturally, I assume. Long eyelashes framed his eyes, and his lips were a dark tint of pink.
"What'd you do?" I ask him as he eyed the the unappetizing food.
"I don't know." His voice was barely audible.
Kurt furrowed his brows, glancing at me warily. "Where yah from?"
"England, up in Bradford." He keeps his head down.
He was a weird one.
"How'd you get to the United States?" I ask him, curious.
"Job. Wanted to expand the company."
"Who?" Kurt asks.
"Me."
It's quiet for the rest of lunch, neither me or Kurt want to ask anymore questions.
-
Zayn's not at lunch the next day, something inside me deflates, I'm not sure why. Maybe because he seemed pretty interesting. Or maybe because he was just that beautiful, and I just wanted to keep staring at him.
"Hey, where's that Zayn guy?" Kurt asks sitting beside me.
I shrug, playing with my food. Kurt nods and rambles on about his sister, who's coming to visit him tomorrow. I interrupt him mid-sentence.
"I'll be right back." I say, getting up.
"Where yah going?"
"Restroom."
The cafeteria is fairly big, considering the population of prisoners in here. The men/women's restroom is located off the shoulder of the lunchroom, isolated by a narrow hallway. I make a beeline straight for the door at the end of the hallway. I push the door open, and I almost bump into someone.
