"You say you got a feeling. You've figured out the writing on the walls, and angels on the ceiling don't calm you when you call," Hiding Under Water by Beth Hart

'Just because we sell condoms doesn't mean we don't have morals and this new law lowering the sexual legal age is outrageous! We used to have a choice on what laws were passed, hell, America used to have some standards! Maybe we can again. Maybe we can save ourselves. This is where it needs to happen. We need to fight this. Let's make America what she used to be!'

It was the statement from one of Trojan's CEO's, which Dad had framed in our hide-away beneath the stairs. Being able to remember it made my insides warm. The familiarity of the words felt safe. Dad made sure to tell all of us about each and every one of the individuals and the companies that had dedicated themselves to speaking for the people when the people no longer had a voice. I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

I should've known the feeling was a short-lived moment when someone punched me. Quick and hard, it dragged me from the warmth of my memories. The throbbing pain spread through my hips and radiated towards my shoulder blades. The gasp never escaped but my jaw clenched to ward off the ache that settled around my right kidney. Had the punch been a few inches to the left, and harder, it could've caused some serious damage.

I turned my head to stare at the woman behind me, really taking her appearance in. Her hair was dirty and blonde. She was covered in patches of drying mud. It was caked in her hair and on her chubby rose colored cheeks. She was two feet shorter and about a hundred pounds heavier. In my experience, heavier didn't mean an inept fighter. Having the additional weight behind a punch, sloppy or not, could still have an impact if the punch hit the target. It was clear by the girl's appearance, and the fist imprint on my lower back, that she knew how to hit too.

"If you touch me again, I'll break your fucking hand," I whispered, keeping my eyes as blank as possible.

She didn't need to see anything other than how serious I was. It wouldn't be anger that made me attack. It would be cold, hard, and calculating. I wanted to show her that I wasn't someone to be messed with. Starling and Hayden said I needed to make a name for myself, to be noticed by the right people. I had a feeling these weren't those 'important' people, but it would be a start.

"Like you even could," the dirty girl said with a sneer. "You scrawny little chicken, do you think you could take me? Well, do you?"

I didn't dignify it with an answer or at least I wouldn't have if the older guard hadn't chosen that moment to speak again. "Ladies, let's not do this your first day. You don't want to go down this path so soon. Baby doll, squat and cough, then move along," he said. "Don't make me tell you again."

Turning my back, I inhaled sharply, trying to clear my thoughts. No thinking, no embarrassment. It would be quick. I lowered my body, my knees cracking as they bent, and coughed. As I went to stand back up, the rubber of a boot heel dug into my shoulder, keeping me in place. I turned my head to see the younger female guard who had been standing by the door where the other inmates had entered after the pop and squat.

"Cough again," she demanded; her eyes looking like black coal.

She was putting her weight behind her leg. The heel of her boot bit into my shoulder, and I knew I'd have a red mark afterwards. I coughed again, not wanting her to think I was causing trouble. She removed her boot from my shoulder. Only she didn't leave as I stood up.

Her brown hair was up in a bun, much like the other female guards I'd seen. Up to this point, it had only been two really, but it was enough to conclude that it was the uniform style. When she still didn't move, I started to walk towards the door where everyone else had gone, but she shifted, blocking me. Her arm lifted and her fingers flicked my glasses before dropping her hand to clutch at my chin.

"You're cute," she mumbled, turning my face to the side. "And so clean." She leaned in, running the tip of my nose up the curve of my cheek, inhaling before she pulled back. "What's her number?"

"11329254. She's not for you, Kidd," Salt and Pepper said. "As I said, she's special."

Kid? The guard may have appeared younger than him, but she couldn't be that much younger than him. I glanced down at the tag just above her left breast. Officer Kidd.

"Apparently, not for you either. What a damn shame. Did you smell her? When's the last time you smelled soap?" Kidd asked, chuckling as she stepped aside and gestured me forward. "Are there any five-twos in this batch? Five-ones are too messy, ya know?"

"Yeah, but I haven't seen any. I'll keep an eye out for you."

"Good. A few of us could use a shiny new SGT."

SGT? What the hell was that?

I wanted to ask out loud what an SGT was, but I had a feeling they'd been lenient up to this point with the talking and I didn't want to push it. I took a few small steps towards the room we were being ushered into but stopped to see the dirt covered girl behind me squat down.

"Ooh, right up your alley. Five-three, Masterson?" Kidd asked.

Glancing back to the older guard, I watched as his eyes darkened when he focused on the girl's large round behind sticking in the air. I hadn't eaten much today, but the little that I did was threatening to burn a hole in my intestines at that hungry look. I didn't like her much yet I felt afraid for her.

"Let's see." He paused, searching the clipboard of papers he held in his hands, "114292... 51. Hot damn, she's for both. Not your type though, is she?"

Kidd laughed. Her tiny shoulders shook and strands of her brown hair wiggled free from her bun. "Nope, but it looks like you'll be having fun soon."

"I'm not a number. My names Tonya, and I don't fuck old guys!" she said as she stood and turned towards them, clearly not ashamed of her nakedness.

I bit my lip, my eyes lifting. Masterson's mouth twitched. Excitement glinted in his eyes.

"Did I say I wanted to fuck you?" He glanced over at Kidd. "Did I say that, Kidd?"

The corner of Kidd's mouth lifted in a slow, mysterious smile before she responded, "I don't believe you did, Masterson."

"Thought I hadn't," he said with a nod, and turned back to Tonya, his eyebrow lifting as he gave her Cheshire-like grin. "What makes you think you'd have a choice anyway?"

"Did you hear that? You no longer have choices in this facility. You threw them out the door when you chose to commit crimes," Kidd shouted down the line of people still left standing naked against the wall.

She took large steps towards the door where she'd originally been posted and settled against the wall, her arms folding over her chest. My feet shuffled forward, but just as I walked past her and into the room filled with eight dulled-silver metal benches, she spoke again. "You can count yourselves among the Owned."

My stomach rolled and my once dry mouth watered. I swallowed to keep from gagging. Keeping my eyes focused straight ahead, the dark foreboding feeling settled in my gut as I stood staring at the still naked inmates sitting on the metal benches. I knew Kidd wasn't just talking to me but it felt like it.

Owned.

A word to be feared because to be Owned meant to be less than human. Trafficked. They could do anything to us in here and no one would care. No one would do anything about it. Starling said it would be different but, like with everything else, he hadn't been specific enough.

I took a deep, shaking breath and walked forward. The palms of my damp hands itched and I could feel the sting on my lips from too much biting. The cold bench against my bare skin made me gasp, and my teeth chattered. Wrapping my arms tighter around my body, I hunched over, hoping to keep in the warmth. The air conditioning unit and fan in the front of the room made it obvious that it was supposed to be cold.

"Are you cold?" a female guard asked.

Do you care?

I focused on the female's voice, keeping my eyes on the floor. Her voice was softer than the other female guards. Refreshing and warm, like I'd just bathed in sunlight. There was no poor grit vibrating from her words and I almost believed she did care whether I was cold or not.

"Look at me," she said.

I lifted my gaze and saw a black woman with flat-ironed hair. She wasn't in a guard's uniform but she was dressed from head to toe in a fancy black suit, and in her hands was a set of familiar looking folded clothes.

The school girl uniform. I swallowed as I stared at the fabric. I guess it wasn't a sick joke. Sick, sure, but not a joke. This prison really did dress the new inmates up.

"I'm Evelyn Baton, daughter to the founder of Baton and current warden of this facility. It's not every day someone comes with their own costume. We appreciate the effort your benefactor made in making things easier for us, and the donation. I can assure you, that as soon as you're picked, you will have access to the luggage he sent with you. Unfortunately, until then, this and only this is what you'll be wearing."

Nodding, I took the offered uniform and stood up to pull the slightly itchy material back on. "Um-what if no one picks me?" I asked.

The deep scowl settled on her face and I knew I shouldn't have asked. I had a feeling I'd be paying for that once everyone was fully processed, benefactor or not. "After a week, if you still haven't been chosen, you'll be deemed an independent and will be allowed to get your things then."