Reporting job [1]

The female guard walked behind Brianna in disbelief. She couldn't believe the timid and weak-looking girl was capable of doing that.

What else did she expect anyway? The inmate was convicted of attempting to murder her own kin, so it's not unbelievable.

The female guard shuddered upon remembering Melissa's injured state. Her nose was crooked and her face was full of scratches. But what was the black ink on her face? The female guard pondered.

They reached their destination. She unlocked the room and opened the door to the silent inmate.

Brianna walked obediently. The female guard remarked, "Since this is your first offense, you'll be receiving a week of lock time in this room. Meals will be reduced to two times. Behave yourself."

The door shut and the padlock sounded.

The room darkened. The only light coming was from the small window the size of a single brick a meter away from Brianna's height. Even if she stretched her arm, she won't be able to touch the opening, lest pulled herself up to see the outside.

A week of living like that, curled in darkness and a cold silence.

Brianna slumped on the cold ground. There was a small bed in the corner of that eight-meter square room, next to a pit that seemed to be the toilet. The smell inside was revolting that Brianna would rather not breathe than bask in that stench.

She hugged herself and buried her face on her knees.

Closing her eyes, she rummaged through her head what happened last night. Then, she remembered hearing something rustling underneath her bed. She didn't dare to check on it, but she was certain it wasn't her inmates.

She recalled seeing Bianca's foot resting on the edge of her bed as she slept, and Alice was on the lower bed, tucked in her sheet.

Aside from that, Melissa was sleeping above Brianna, so if someone climbed on her bed to draw on Melissa's face, wouldn't she be awakened by the bed's creaking?

If it's not the two, then who?

Heavy and loud footsteps approached the cell. Brianna lifted her head and stared at the narrow gap between the floor and the door. The sound of footsteps became closer but light seeping through the gap wasn't blinking.

The footsteps became louder until they sounded as though they passed on the cell directly, but the light did not bend or obstructed at all.

Brianna had goosebumps. Her back tingled with fear. What is it? A ghost? The one under her bed as well, was it a ghost?

She hugged herself tighter and a sob escaped. A week in that desolate place with all those scary thoughts running wild in her head, she might as well lose her mind.

She won't go back to that place again! Brianna swore as everything that happened finally wore her out, and soon her sob turned to sound breathing.

The week passed like that.

After Brianna was released, the inmates saw her differently. Some of them were closing their mouth as if they didn't want her to hear them gossiping. A few would snicker and walk away, while many, especially those silent and obedient ones, won't even make eye contact with her.

She even heard someone say as they ran away.

"She really is a murderer! I heard that junkie Melissa almost cracked her head because of a book? Can you imagine that? A book as a weapon? Sister, she's scary~. Let's not get involved with her."

Brianna ignored them and just walked with a lowered head. She swore to avoid any conflict, so even if the others would bully her again, she must tolerate it as long as she can.

Even after a week passed, she still couldn't understand why she did that to Melissa. She was enraged and felt aggrieved, but she fought back like she was used to fighting as if she wasn't scared of getting hurt.

The faint-hearted, timid, and pitiful girl that she was, seemed to be changing faster into a person she herself couldn't recognize. Is it only because she was adapting well to her environment, or there was a bigger factor at that? Also, her failing memory on which she doesn't know the cause yet, was starting to scare her.

'Am I beginning to have dementia? Alzheimer?' Brianna anxiously thought.

"Hey, Inmate XXXX, you are to report to the office."

An officer called out to Brianna.

'Report what?' Brianna asked herself. 'Do inmates locked up in an isolation cell need to report something?'

Confused, she followed the male correctional officer to the administration building and waited inside a room. After a few minutes, another guy entered. He sat opposite Brianna and pushed a white thick envelope.

Brianna furrowed her brows.

The guy who wore casual clothes began to speak, "I heard that you don't have any money. So, why don't you take it? It's yours."

Brianna's eyes widened. She immediately took the envelope and opened the rip. Her jaw fell upon seeing a stack of hundred bills inside. She nervously put back the envelope on the table and pushed it into the center.

The guy chuckled, "What? You don't want it?"

"You're giving it for free?" Brianna asked cautiously. She was penniless and couldn't buy a single snack right now, but even with that offer, she won't accept it so easily without any reason. What if the guy asks for her body in exchange? She might really commit murder if that's the case.

The guy laughed, "Of course not. You have to do something for me. It's easy, how about that?"

Brianna eyed the man suspiciously, "What is it?"

The stranger smirked and replied, "You just have to report someone's routine to me. That's all. You see, this person is truly important to me, but because of our falling out, she refuses to talk to me or even see me. I'm really worried about her."

Brianna got curious. She showed interest, which made the guy grin successfully. She asked, "Who is it? And…I'm really just going to report to you…in the form of words?"

"Well, yeah. I'm a regular visitor here anyway. I always try to visit her but just the mention of my name puts her off already, so I can just visit you to hear from you," the man responded with a pitiful look.

Brianna was convinced that the guy was genuine, so she slowly nodded. Grabbing the envelope again, she accepted, "Okay. Who is it?"

The guy hid his devious smirk by propping up his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together, and leaning his head forward to cover half of his face with his joined hands.

In a clear voice, he recited a name, "Bianca Acosta."