Guilty

Billie Rae Newman is thrown into prison at the age of 18 after a traumatic event. What will happen when secrets unfold and truths will come out? And who can she trust?

#romance #action #mystery

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4. chapter 4

My eyelids feel like sand paper and my eyes sting from the lack of sleep.

A gentle hand on my arm snaps me back into the harsh reality.

"Hey."

It's Tyler; he offers a small, brief smile.

I don't have the strength to smile back.

My eyes dart to the door when a key turns in the lock.

"Breakfast!" A low, gravely voice exclaims from the corridor.

Tyler,Frankie,Aaron and Blake stand up abruptly and begin to make their way out. I fumble with the zip on my overalls and rush after them.

My feet trail reluctantly behind a broad prison guard as he guides us to a bustling canteen filled with criminals and murderers.

I don't know why I'm so scared - after all, I'm a murderer.

Teardrop tattoos and curled snarls are printed on the people scattered around the room.

As I make my way to the queue of inmates, I accidentally step on someone's shoe. Heart pounding and eyes widening, I keep on walking - hoping that they didn't notice.

"Hey watch it shorty!" He angrily shouts. A few curious eyes meet mine and so I turn to the floor.

I take my place in the line of orange overalls and wonder how the hell I got here.

Oh I remember. I shot my neighbour.

Lumpy, soggy porridge stares back at me and it's melancholy grey colour sickens my stomach.

This only worsens my mood.

My eyes desperately search for a friendly face, hoping to find something I know won't be there.

So instead, I look for faces that seem like they want to kill me the least.

My conscience decides on a table of Hispanic women. However, I quickly learn that they do not appreciate my presence when they shoot me a piercing glare.

"Rae!"

I spin around and scan the room for the voice.

Tyler is standing up by a table waving at me; without hesitation, I march over to him, placing my tray on the table and slotting my self onto the bench.

I look up, and to my horror, I see Aaron's unnerving smirk.

My legs jitter and I quickly break our eye contact.

"So..Rae, how did you sleep last night?" Aaron asks after a few minutes of silence.

I say nothing, keeping my head down as I scoop spoons of miserable porridge into my chapped lips.

Blake sits next to Aaron on our table of 4. His eyes firmly fixed on his tray.

I can't look at either of them.

After a while, Blake leaves, then followed by Tyler. I am panicked by the thought of having to sit alone with Aaron so I quickly make my way across the room to give back my tray.

I turn around, hoping I can head back to my cell now, but a towering body stands over me.

"Well what have we got here?" He smiles as he chew something.

A thin scar runs down his right cheek and a small dagger is inked on his other.

I look around and notice that multiple men are closing in on me.

"Um..excuse me..please can I just-" I clumsily blurt out.

"Shushhhh" another unrecognisable man whispers as he walks closer, each step slow and painful for me to watch.

I am soon cornered.

"I don't want any trouble" I nervously inform them.

"Did you hear that? She thinks we are trouble" a man with a distinctive Texas accent sniggers.

The other 5 men begin to laugh, but the laugh soon turns cold.

"Listen here missy" spits the guy with the dagger on his face as he inches closer to me.

My heart pounds as my back is pressed against the canteen wall.

Nobody's helping me?

"We are much worse than trouble, we are your worst nightmare. And people like you don't do well in places like this, so I suggest you keep your head down and your mouth shut..."

"...because if you don't, you're dead."

He then smiles and chuckles under his breath before the circle of intimidating men disperses.

For a while I am unable to move, shocked with how the inmates threatened me when I did nothing wrong.

11am:

"Where the hell is my book?!" Frankie suddenly exclaims.

I can hear  her filing through her stuff violently, as I stand in the bathroom washing my hands.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?!" She shouts in a much angrier tone.

Aaron decides to butt in.

"Woah chill Frankie, It can't have gone anywhere"

"Don't tell me to chill you asshole!" She spits back.

I detect a slight accent in her voice but I can't make out what it is.

Beds clanking and items hitting the floor. she's clearly very desperate to find this 'book'.

After washing my hands, I stand in the doorway of the bathroom and watch as Frankie angrily storms around the room, turning everything upside down.

"Hey do you need some help looking for -" i an soon cut off.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Frankie blares as she starts throwing my bed covers around the room.

Blake shoots me an unnerving look and so I avert my eyes to the floor.

Suddenly, two hands slam me back through the doorway, causing me to hit my head on the wall.

I wince in pain as I open my eyes and see an infuriated Frankie staring back.

She holds up a book in her hand.

"You think it's funny to take my stuff huh?" She spits, her eyes burning with fury.

I can hear Aaron chuckling.

"I swear I didn't touch it, it-"

My nervous voice is cut off when her hand whips against my cheek.

I groan in pain and she slaps me again.

"You fucking bitch, Ima have to teach you not to mess with me" she says through clenched teeth.

Her manicured fingers curl firmly around my arms and she kicks me in the shins. 

"Please stop I didn't do it" I wince.

"SHUT UP!" She spits. Aaron has positioned himself in the doorway so he doesn't miss the fight.

Do I fight back? Should I hit her? No, that will only make it worse.

She throws me into the shower with surprisingly powerful force, before twisting the handle on the wall.

Thousands of droplets of freezing water hit my skin and clothes and I flinch in shock.

My head pounds as I try to stand up. But I am only pushed down again.

"Don't you dare touch my fucking stuff!" She shouts as she begins to kick me.

Kick after kick, bruising my ribs and legs.

My orange overalls are drenched and goosebumps pepper my skin.

Frankie finally stops, muttering "bitch" on the way out of the bathroom.

I try to stand up, but find that my body can't hold my weight.

My feet slip in the wet shower as cold water continues to hit my face.

My beaten arm reaches for the handle, sliding it until the water stops flowing.

A shivering breath escapes from my lips as I - with instant regret - meet eyes with Aaron.

He smirks at me with folded arms, before walking back into the cell.

It was him. He framed me for stealing her goddamn book.

I stand up after a few minutes of blankly staring at a wall whilst trying to hold back tears.

My cheek burns and my head is throbbing and my legs ache and my arm is bleeding. What is happening to me?

I close the door and slide my orange overalls off, leaving me only in my shorts and vest.

Here I inspect the full damage of Frankie's fit.

I count 16 bruises rising on my legs,

A scrape on my elbow from hitting the shower wall, a partially black eye from one of her kicks, a red cheek, and a bump on my head form hitting the other wall.

With a towel wrapped around my damaged body, I return to the cell.

I quickly slide into my bunk and pull the sheets over me.

Hoping that nobody will talk to me, I turn to face the wall, letting my wet hair drip down my back.

I can't survive a year in here. I just can't.

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