5 Chapter 5: Jail Bait

Shaye

I am numb inside.

The guards haul me into a stark white office. A female guard who looks like she bench presses tractors barely glances up at me from behind her clean desk.

"Name?" she grunts.

"Shaye Trimorphe," I squeeze out as my legs shake. I want to start crying and beg them that this is a huge mistake. But then what? They laugh at me and then word spreads I'm an easy target. As if I can stand any chance here this is a fucking prison my new home for eternity. Death would have been a kinder punishment.

My breath catches in my throat, and the woman glances up at me through her lashes, her brows pinched together.

I school my fear as best I can and chew on my lower lip until it hurts to stop myself from breaking down.

Her eyes widen as she stares up at me with what I can only describe as pure hatred. "You're never leaving this place alive, you know that right?" She clicks her tongue. "Life in prison is too good for you. I give you a month or two at most before they carry you out of here in pieces for killing a fucking god."

My legs shake and I can't think of what to say. Except I can't get the words out of my head. Life in prison. Panic curls around my chest like barbed wire and it takes every inch of strength to not scream and run. But holding back the tears is a fight I lose. How the hell did I end up here?

"Disrobe," she barks.

I glance at the guards holding my arms. "What about them? I-I need them to leave."

"So you think you're in charge?" She slams her pen down on the desk, and I flinch.

"If you don't take off all of your clothes this instant, they will rip them off of you."

The guards drop their grip on my arms. Both of them leer at me as though they'd like nothing more to do than strip me down. I swallow the bile that burns the back of my throat and take off my boots, then my socks, laying them inside. I can't dwell on what this woman said about me never leaving. I have to think that somehow I'll get out of here. Serve my time or earn parole. Without that hope, I'll never survive.

My hand trembles as I push down my pants and remove my shirt.

Standing in my bra and panties, I wrap my arms around my chest. "Please, I'll finish if you have the men leave."

She laughs like a squealing pig. "You think you're someone special? That you've got something they ain't never seen?"

One of the guards next to me chuckles along with her, but his lustful stare makes me take a step back.

"You've got two seconds to finish or I let them do it for you." She stands up.

Her tone tells me that she isn't messing around and would probably let them grope me in the process.

I lift my chin, taking off my underwear and then my bra. Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I blink hard, not letting them fall.

"That's more like it." She marches over to me. "Come with me."

"Like this?" I squeak.

She doesn't answer me. I scramble after her, the two prison guards trailing behind. We leave her office and I frantically look around to find it's empty. Farther down, we enter a room with a large shower. The tiles are stained with years of wear and grit, appearing more yellow than white. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker while the female guard gestures to the far wall at me, sneering like she has no patience or care how horrific this is for me. There's a black X painted on the floor that is worn around the edges.

"Go stand over there."

"Wh-what are you going to do?" I've seen the movies. Is she really going to hose me down?

"Make sure you're not bringing any germs or weapons."

"I-I'm not," I protest.

"This will tell us for certain." She smirks. "Everyone who comes through here claims that they don't have anything like that or that they are innocent. I've heard it all before so save your breath."

I stand where she points, knowing it's useless to argue or fight. I'm a prisoner here. Any rights I had are gone.

She grabs a hose that looks like a firefighter's. "Try to only move when I tell you."

Before I can ask, she flips the switch and water slams into my stomach, sending me reeling backward. I gasp and choke as the water tumbles over me, through my mouth, ears, and every opening I have.

"Turn!" she shouts.

But I can't move. The water is pinning me to the wall.

"Stupid. Do it for her." She shuts off the water.

I fall to my knees, gasping for air. The men haul me up and turn me so that my back is to her. I am barely standing when she flings the switch again. The water hits me so hard that I feel like I'm battered and bruised. Rapids plowing into my back. When the water mercifully shuts off, I'm choking, and on my hands and knees, trying to draw in air.

Both of the guards rub a towel all over me. Their hands touch me everywhere, but I'm too exhausted to fight back.

"Get dressed." She throws an orange uniform at me.

My hands shake so bad that it takes three tries to get the pants on. My hair is still drenched and makes the top cling to my back.

"All right, put your arms out."

I do so, hoping this is the last of it. She fits bright silver and gold bracelets on my wrists. They clink closed. A burning sensation races up my arms. Then she fastens a similar one around my neck and I flinch, knowing what to expect. Magic snaps down my torso and legs. I feel it prickling over my flesh.

"She's ready." The woman nods, stepping back.

My stomach clutches so hard that I wince and double over. But the guards don't care. They haul me up and drag me out of the shower and down the hallway. We move through so many halls with gray cement walls and bright overhead lights they all blend together. The courtyards we pass are concrete yards encased by lofty wire fences with barbed wire across the top. I can't remember how to return to the guard's office if I tried.. The enormity of this place leaves my head spinning. I spot a few inmates, all in orange uniform, and they all stare at me, but I lower my head, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

I've heard rumors of such a place existing for demi-gods who break the rules, but I never asked about it since I never expected in my wildest nightmares to end up here.

Prisoners jeer and boo from their cells, and I'm unsure if they're complaining about me or the guards. We walk down the wide hallways, and cells flank our walk. There are so many prisoners in this place, it's terrifying. Both male and female, but hang inside their prison, some lying on their bed, others playing cards, doing push ups, reading, leaning against the cells and studying me. There isn't much to do as their lives waste away.

Finally, we come to a long, narrow looking cell. The iron bars swish open. I'm shoved inside and three faces glare out at me from a three-tiered bunk bed against one wall. Toward the back is a small nook for the toilet and sink, and even a small metal shelving unit, but the spot isn't deep enough to avoid anyone outside the cell to see everything. A scent of urine and mold clings to the air, making me gag.

This can't be right, I don't belong here. My insides are twisting, and panic is rising through me. I swallow hard and hold back the fear that wants to come screaming out and a full out panic attack takes hold.

I turn back to the guard who is closing the cell, locking me in here. "Hey, there's no bed in here for me."

"Not my problem." He turns the lock, then walks away. His keys jangle with each step until the sound fades down the hallway. And my hopes go right alongside with him.

My three roommates don't even glance at me but continue their tasks. One sits on the cell floor with her legs crossed and her hair in braids. She hums a tune I can't make out while a girl with red hair scrapes her red nails across the edge of the metal cot. Is she filing them into sharp points? I shiver.

Watching me with violet eyes is the third girl. Her black hair is shorn to her skull on one side and hangs to her jawline on the other. Egyptian-style tats line her scalp and arms.

"So what's your story?" She lifts her chin at me.

"Nothing. None," I squeak out.

"Gotta be something for you to end up here." She beams. "We're roomies now, you can tell us."

"What did you all do?" I ask, trying to throw them off my crime. From the reception I've gotten so far, I doubt these three will be cheering me on that I killed one of their precious gods.

"What haven't I done?" Egyptian girl asks in a mock voice and the red-haired girl snickers. "Fucked a couple of gods and their wives got mad. Stole. Maimed a few of their precious demi-gods. You know the ones they admit to like Hercules and shit."

"This whole meditation thing isn't working, Crymson. I keep getting distracted from the spirits."

"You've done it for like two minutes," the red-haired one snaps, and I guess that she's Crymson. "Tell the girl that she has to keep at it. Goddess help me. Ten, nine, eight," she takes a breath, "seven, six. Okay, Lene, you need to drop your crazy shit. Ain't no spirits or ghosts up in here."

"Yes, there are." Lene nods her head and her blond braids bob.

"You think you'd be hanging around this shit hole if you were dead?" The dark-haired girl tsks. "Please. You'd be flying to Paris or some shit."

Crymson laughs. "Or trying to get your god-dad to take you on a safari. How many times has he tricked you? Or pointed you in the wrong direction."

"That's just Esu's nature." Her cheeks redden.

"H-How long have you all been here...in the prison?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Two years come April," the brunette answers. "These two are barely eight months. Another year for all of us before we get a chance at parole, not that it'll happen that quick. The gods like us troublemakers locked away where they don't have to deal with us."

When I shuffle forward to sit on one of the three cots stacked up on top of one another, Lene gasps.

"You can't sit there, Jerome stays there."

I back away, staring at the empty space.

"You should see the look on your face," Crymson slaps her leg. "Priceless."

"Don't joke, Jerome hates people who play pranks." Lene uncrosses her legs and stands.

"Best not to get too comfortable, newbie."

"My name's Shaye," I say.

"Don't care. No one sleeps on the beds but us."

"Everly." Lene gives me a sympathetic look. "You can't expect her to lay on the floor."

"Three beds, four bitches." Everly pulls her pillow under her head, facing the ceiling from the top bunk. "You do the math."

I face the women. The beds are barely big enough for them. At the back wall are a small metal sink and toilet in the corner, in view of everyone. I want to die.

No way am I laying down on this floor. I press my back to the bars and sit. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them, holding onto my knees. I'm trying my best to think positive, to believe this is some horrendous mistake and in the morning someone will bail me out. But the tears are falling, my chin trembling, and all I can feel is the darkness seeping into me.

This can't be my life, can't be where I end up. I tuck my head against my knees and cry as quietly as I can.