Chapter Text
You gazed ahead with half-closed eyes, your heels scraped along the coarse cobblestone. Your attention seemed lost, fixed on no specific point. Without uttering a word of complaint or offering any resistance, you allowed the correctional officers to transport your seemingly lifeless form through the dim and icy corridors.
Several men snickered, whispered, and growled insults, gossip, and other words which none of particularly caught your ears. You craned your head, trying to get a glimpse of your new neighbors but only blackened shadows, fists gripping onto iron, and gleaming eyes met your vision.
After a long struggle, you eventually reached your cell, only to be forcefully thrown into it by the two officers who had their hands firmly clasped under your arms. Your boots caught on a crack and you slunk forwards, dancing and flailing your arms as you tried not to fall flat on your face. You didn’t want to imagine how other inmates’ first impression of you would be if your first scars you gained wasn’t from any dispute, but rather a battle against you and the floor. . . And the floor won. After a few grunts and wobbling limbs you regained your balance before reluctantly taking in your surroundings.
The cell was pretty small, but not unbearably so. Concrete encased every corner and inch of the place, only to be interrupted by iron bars which stretched over a cleanly cut gap in the middle of the wall to form possibly the smallest window you’ve ever seen.
Closing the heavy metal door behind you, the guards laughed at the little show you put on and one even sneered a venomous greeting to the facility. Ignoring their taunts, you straightened yourself up, trying to maintain a semblance of dignity in this grueling environment. The guards rude behavior seemed to slide off your back as you faced only your room.
You glanced over once more, making sure you didn’t overlook anything in your slightly dazed state. The room around you laid small, barren, and reeked of stale air and an underlying scent you couldn’t quite reach with your better mind. It smelled. . . Almost familiar, not completely barren. A bed, a window crossed with heavy and thick steel bars, a barely secluded toilet, and another bed. Another bed. The shuttering grimace of panic crept up your spine but you straightened yourself and exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, almost expelling whatever fear coursed through you. Another bed. You weren’t told anything about a roommate.
Though stiff in place, you could still hear the metal of keys clinging against one another as one of the officers laughed so heavily it shook his whole body.
“What’s that?” You pointed towards the empty mattress. Your throat was dry and your speech almost croaks.
“Ah, yeah, you’re not exactly alone in this cell. You got a roomie!” He chuckled boisterously, the sound echoing off the cold walls.
“What?” You turned around, glaring at the two officers as they chuckled to themselves.
“Another poor man, down on his luck. . .” He faux-ed pity before bursting into another deep belly laugh, making the other officer join in the chorus of amusement.
“Yeah.” They’d both lean in casting looks of sly amusement among themselves. You clenched your jaw, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. “Wasn’t his fault they found out his menu was. . . a bit too humanly sourced.”
Your chest tightened at the revelation, and you caught the glint in their eyes, a sick sense of satisfaction at your discomfort.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Your body felt like rock as you turned around, crumbling and cracking under the weight of the realization. Your voice barely a whisper.
“Well. I'll be here all night if I go over everything he’s done.” He grinned ear to ear before turning to his other guard. “After all, he’s got a name that’s shorter.”
The words hung heavy. Not another question passed your lips but the look in your eyes, the wrinkles of your tense quirked brow and scrunched nose was in itself a pleading plea for more information. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest, threatening to explode.
“Bob Velseb.” He simply said, throwing his arm across the bars in front of you and whispering something to his other guard that must have been funny judging by the way they both hushed each other and chuckled under their breath like gossiping school girls.
A few seconds went by and the three of you just stood in silence, yourself in bated breath. Was that it?
“Ok?” You attempted to gain more information.
“The hell do you mean ’ok?’”
You stood awkwardly in the middle of your cell. “Is that it? Who’s— who’s that?”
Both of the guards desperately looked at the other in a dumbfounded and almost desperate manner. The two turned their backs to whisper— or better yet speak at an almost infuriating volume simply in a whisper voice because you totally heard all of it.
“The hell’s the matter with this guy?”
“Don’t you listen to the news or something?”
"Not really."
A heavy moment of silence settled into the air as you three exchanged looks to each other. The words hung in the atmosphere, creating an awkward tension that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Neither of the duo was expecting such a response, and it left a lingering sense of confusion.
As they departed from you and continued their journey through the lengthy corridor of prison cells, their foul banter echoed throughout the hallway. You stayed in your prison cell, where you could hear their laughter growing faint and eventually being replaced by casual conversation among the other inmates, leaving you to your own devices. The sound of their voices echoed through the narrow corridors, reminding you of the life outside these cold, metal bars. As you sat on the hard, uncomfortable bed with nothing else to do, you couldn't stop yourself from worrying.
You were curious and now downright fearful thinking about what your new bunk buddy did that was so bad that his own name was associated with his apparent position. This was the only time you cursed yourself for never watching the news.
You tried to focus on almost anything else. You listened to the prisoners spew words heavy of the rough life of a convict until more yawns than words were uttered. Slowly but surely less and less conversations were shared as midnight approached. You watched the specks of dust dance in the air illuminated by the thin streaks of light climbing through your cell until the lights flickered off, engulfing the prison in darkness and cutting off whatever light slipped through your bars. You turned over in your bed, head against the wall as you closed your eyes and pretended that you were still in your room at home. Maybe even on the couch or a comfortable rug. Anywhere other than this place.
Though of course, you couldn't force yourself to peace.
However, the stress itself appeared to result in your exhaustion and ultimately, sleep.