PRISONERS

Chapter 3

• Chapter 3 •

Next morning I had the typical meeting with Cane at 12:30pm. After having cereal for breakfast in my cell all by myself, I got changed into fresh new orange clothes and white socks before I was escorted out of my cell room. There was an odd feeling creeping in within me from the moment I woke up, as if today, something was going to happen.

But it's just probably my mind playing games with me.

The metal heavy doors were opened and I was pushed forward into the bright hallway. I chewed on my lower lip as many police guards walked past us, shooting me curious, strange looks. I'm used to being the center of attention, kinda, but I still feel awkward when people keep their eyes on me a little too long than usual.

As we passed by the cops’ offices, we got closer to Logan’s and faint angry voices could be heard from the other side. I frowned, confused as to what is going on and why are people shouting. The familiar worn out brown couch was waiting for me right outside Logan’s door, where the loud yells were coming from.

The guard by my side motioned at the couch and I took a seat, slouching further down due to the old worn out pillow beneath me. The voices were only growing louder and louder from Logan’s office so I could actually make out what they were saying.

“She shouldn't be around other prisoners!” I recognized Logan’s hiss and I instantly realized who he was talking about.

Me.

What did I do now?

“We are talking about the government’s decision here!” the other, unknown voice, snapped back.

“What does the government know about the situation? It's inappropriate!”

“We are talking about a millionaire gangster — you have no say in this!”

“You can't put money over—,“

“You don't have a say in this!”

“Yes I do!” I heard something hit against the table, “She is my case! I made it clear that there will be no changes on the charges and circumstances surrounding her!” the patronizing tone in his voice had my stomach churning in a very odd way.

“I am doing my fucking job, Wilson, do yours.” The other man growled before the door yanked open and I was met with hard, dark brown eyes.

My breath hitched in my throat as the tall, muscular man, dressed in a white shirt with a black tie and gray pants  in front of me sent me a cold, vexed glare that lasted longer than I wished. There was a moment of curiosity in his gaze as he took my features in before he walked down the hallway with confidence and anger radiating off of him.

My eyes moved from the unknown man to the open gap from the door leading to Logan’s office. I saw him, dressed in black pants and a black turtle neck sweater,  sitting down on his chair behind the desk, running both hands through his hair in irritation, green eyes thoughtful. My heart broke slightly at the sight of him in this state.

Obviously, I'm just a weight on his shoulders, but he's been in charge for me for four years and I have to say, I have been treated very kindly compared to other prisoners, who have probably done less than I have done. I remember Cane saying that I am mostly ‘protected’ in isolation. I believe it’s probably because I got jumped once although I hadn't done anything wrong to my roommate, so that's what they are trying to avoid.