“Yes fucking way.” the guard on my left replied. I was too much in shock, I didn’t even realize that I said that out loud. “After that little stunt that was pulled today, we thought we’d be nice and pair you two sweethearts together. Don’t worry, you both will become the best of friends I’m sure.”

As they continued to walk me into my new cell, the guy I had beat down earlier (the one I jumped for calling me a pretty, blond bitch) had turned around to address me. His eyes were as cold as ice, piercing it’s way into the depths of my soul and freezing the very core of me.

“You two play nice now.” the other guard cackled as they made their way out of the cell and had closed and locked the door.

I continued to stare at the man before me as he refused to let up the death glare he had on me. I finally broke my stare and started to make my way over to the cots that were against the walls, placed across from each other.

“I think you owe me an apology.” his voice boomed.

I scoffed, he was the one that fucking started it and he wants to hear an apology come from me?! I had to stand my ground, I couldn’t back down because then I would make myself an easy target. “I don’t owe you shit…”

Before I could do anything, I was whirled around and pinned up against the wall; a large hand clamping firmly around my throat, cutting off my air supply with the vice grip he had on me.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are…” he seethed, “but in here, you’re nothing. The fact that you’re a money making Backstreet bitch doesn’t exist in here… you’re just another fuck-up that’s locked up, fresh bait for the taking for those who love new asses like yours.”

All the while, I was slipping in and out of consciousness again, his grip getting tighter and tighter around my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes and I felt my skin turning flushed.

“Get your… fucking hands… off of me.” I managed to wheeze out.

Just when I thought he would never let up, he finally did and released the grip he had on my throat roughly. Immediately I began to cough relentlessly, greedily gasping in as much air as my lungs could take.

“Unless you’re spoken to or want to finally apologize, don’t say shit to me.” the man seethed before he collapsed down on his cot.

Gingerly, I began to rub at my sore throat, trying to will away the dull throb I felt still constricting my neck. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem…” I fired back as I made my way over to my cot, which was directly across from his. “but just know that I ain’t apologizing for shit, so you won’t be hearing from me until I leave this shithole.”

“You seriously think you’re gonna leave this shithole?!” the man cackled.

“I thought we made it clear that we weren’t to say shit to each other?” I replied.

He continued to stare at me, and I swear if his eyes were made of fire, he would’ve burned a hole right through my back.

“They’re gonna let you out early, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, not turning around the address him “Have you ever heard of an appeal?”

“You’re no different from any of these screw-ups locked up in this joint… but of course, things will work in your favor because you’re sitting on a fucking plateau of money which everyone wants a piece of… and you’re capable of giving them what they need.”

I finally built up enough courage to turn around and face the man who hated my guts and could probably kill me if he wanted to. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me how the fuck you were able to get an appeal? You must’ve slipped cash to somebody in this fucked up place.”

“Like I said, you don’t know shit about me.” I seethed.

“You enjoy giving your money away like that? The people out there are nothing but fucking leeches, ready and willing to take green paper whenever it’s flaunted in their face, why don’t you be a fucking man and just serve your time?”

“I didn’t pay anyone for a fucking appeal!” I exploded, causing him, for once, to fall silent and just stare at me. “I thought we made it clear that we weren’t gonna say shit to each other, but since you’re so persistent in finding out how the fuck I got an appeal, I’ll tell you. I didn’t pay anyone off to get me an appeal, I’ve always had one dated since I stepped into this prison. Of course it’s gonna take money to get me out, but that’s bail money… I ain’t paying anyone shit to do anything for me. But, what does it matter to you? It’s none of your concern anyway. You probably ain’t got an appeal because what you did was more than likely way more fucked up than what I “supposedly” did.”

As soon as I finished my sentence, the man shot up from where he sat on his cot, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You don’t know shit about ME!” he fired back. “You have no goddamn right to fucking judge what I did, because I’ll tell you right now I had every damn reason to do what I did and I don’t regret one fucking second of it. And as for the appeal, ain’t no one in this joint ever got an appeal… ever.”

What he just said caused me to fall silent, but instead of glaring him down, my expression contorted into confusion. “Half of the people in here don’t even know what the hell an “appeal” is let alone ever heard or saw the word; even the falsely accused never had an appeal. Somehow, the prison finds a way to twist all our crimes around so we’ll all be sentenced to death… some take longer of course, but during that span of time the prison uses it find things to exaggerate evidence or just make up new crimes to tag on them and make it seem like everyone locked up here are pure masochists. Our stories are forgotten, you become a nobody that soon everyone loves to hate and they want nothing more than you dead. No appeals, just a sentence… a death sentence. What a fucked up justice system we have here, don’t we?”

Now that left me in complete and utter shock. The justice system of this prison was rigged, and everyone that stepped foot into this prison was condemned to death, even the innocent. “Haven’t you tried telling somebody, anybody about this?”

He chuckled in reply, “No one would believe anything we have to say… they would think we were just making this up just to get out. Besides, visitors are forbidden here, they won’t allow it.”

None of this was making sense to me, someone would have surely caught on to what this prison was really doing to it’s inmates. “None of this is making sense…”

“None of it has to make sense, at least not to you. No one gets out of here alive… no one. You’ll be the first and only to receive an appeal and get their release… and while you walk out right into freedom, we’re all left here to be killed.”

I began to shake my head, “No… they can’t do that, that’s not fair!”

“They can and they will.” he looked up to me and I was shocked to see that his anger, his toughness resolved into nothing and was replaced by fear and sadness. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you kid, life is never fair."