Welcome to Brandstrokes Prison
Madeline Green tripped on her low hanging shackles and landed onto dirt ground with a loud thud. She gave a groan as a guard stood over her with a deepening scowl and a look of unyielding disdain. He wasn’t the first to look at her in such a manner. Since she was hauled into the back of a police van she had been watched with the same suspicion and contempt by nearly everyone she passed. Her trial had been a butchery, everyone out for her skin and possibly more if the law allowed it. No one knew why she had done the things she was accused of and none of them cared either.
What was I expecting really? A kind hearted lawyer to ride in and save the day?! Fat chance of that happening in Kingston.
Her neighbours and friends had all peered at her like they were disgusted to even be affiliated with her. So needless to say, the hatred the guard viewed her with, wasn’t new to Madeline. In fact it was a normal day since that fateful event, but in that moment, she felt a stab of anger at the prison guard’s obvious pleasure at seeing her falter and crumble. He didn’t know her or what she was like before she was hauled off to her doom in such a degrading manner. It wasn’t like she belonged behind bars, but for this arsehole who watched her with such loathing, she might as well be Hitler reincarnated.
Ignorant bastard. How can he fucking judge me?! He doesn’t even know why I am here and….okay calm. Remember what happened last time I got pissed off at someone. Don’t make this worse.
She looked up and narrowed her eyes at him, determined to show strength instead of fear. Despite the steely intent behind her glare, she was gripped by terror, her heart hammering as she faced her sentence.
Not once in Madeline’s life had she ever expected to be locked up in a prison. A year before, the idea of her being shackled and transported in cuffs would have been laughable and not just to herself. Anyone who had ever known her would have scoffed at the thought of her being anything more than just a mild pain in the arse. She had been the model daughter, good employee, loyal friend and a social butterfly without even a small infraction on her non-existent record. The worst she could have been accused of was being a bit of a slob.
Which I have. Countless times. Mainly by my mother.
She was a model student, not the smartest by a long shot, but never once had she found herself in detention or even receiving a ticking off by teachers. She didn’t even have a traffic violation. By all standards Madeline had been low key and uneventful her whole life, with little to tell in a good rule breaking story.
This must count right? Prison. That’s as badass as I’m ever going to get.
She had once felt like she had missed out on her youth by not becoming a delinquent at some point. All her other friends had something to laugh about, a story to show their immaturity and idiocy over the years. But not Madeline.
Now it’s a serious wonder why I ever dreamed of being a rule breaker. This is not the slapping of the hand everyone jokes about. This is my life down the drain.
Overnight her world had warped into a nightmare and not the type she would ever wake up from. Now she was standing in the baking hot sun, staring up at the intimidating walls of Brandstrokes Prison which would be her home until she either a) killed herself or b) died of old age. Neither one sounded viable in her books.
“Get up,” the guard snapped, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. “Don’t keep the governor waiting.”
She allowed him to drag her to her feet but wrenched her arm free the moment she was stable and balanced. Being touched was a no-go for her, even by people she actually liked or trusted in a previous life. As a free, law abiding citizen she could avoid others getting too close by putting out a very definitive vibe of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. She doubted it was going to be so simple in a prison and, if the guard eyeing her at that very moment was anything to go by, she couldn’t see the staff being fussed about violating her personal space. She looked across at the stone building in front of her and fended off the need to groan openly. It was going to be her home for the remainder of her years.
And it’s not the Hilton, telling from the fact that I just saw a rat run away from the building. That’s got to be a bad sign when rodents don’t want to stick around.
The building was once the most notorious prison in England, which held well over a thousand of the most gruesome and despicable animals to ever walk her lands. For decades it had been the home of serial killers, rapists and mass murderers. All the bottom of the barrel insane scum who would never be free to harm another innocent soul again.
Sounds great, until now. I can’t believe I am now classed the same as those lunatics.
Madeline had heard rumours that Brandstrokes Prison was shut down almost twenty years ago when the building had started to fall apart. The government had decided to inject a little more money into the prison services and moved the inmates to somewhere a lot more upscale and secure. The rumours that Brandstrokes had been abandoned and forgotten, had been disproven the moment she was given her sentence by the judge.
Clearly the government don’t like wasting a perfectly good building. So they make use of it to dump the most dangerous and horrifying convicts of all. People like me.
As the guard shoved her forward, cutting into her quiet reflection, she noticed one half of the building was practically gaping open. The walls were crumbled in and there were scorch marks around the edges of some of the bricks. Half the structure was missing and all of that wing was almost charcoal black, like soot.
I know what that scene is. Someone set a fire. A pretty big one too. Good for them.
She didn’t argue the third shoving gesture from the impatient guard, biting her tongue as she continued shuffling toward the entrance. The chains around her arms and ankles clanged as she moved and the heat branded the metal against her skin uncomfortably. She was already feeling the sores from having the metal around her wrists for too long. The guard stopped her when they got inside the building and walked to the female officer sat at a desk looking alert but incredibly bored. She had the expression of a woman who had been there for far too many years and was lacking any joy in her world.
“Prisoner Madeline Green,” the guard announced, handing over the paperwork to the short middle aged tough looking woman. “Transferred for life sentence.”