4th February, 2017.

MDC Brooklyn,

New York City, America.

Hell.

A word that stands for the one place no one wants to go in the afterlife.

In this world however, some people yearned to be there. Sick isn't it?

Hell is the right word to describe a prison though—That Rabia could testify to.

10 years. 10 years of being stuck in hell on earth—one would think that she's used to it already, but no one can ever get used to prison. It's like getting used to being in hell.

"Williams is out of the black room" A woman said as she slid into a table of four. She rubbed her two hands together before she reached out and picked up a card from the one the others are playing to join them. The sleeves of her orange shirt rolled up to her elbow revealing a scar that runs from her palm up to where the eyes cannot see due to the sleeves covering it up.

Two amongst the three others that were playing card before she came, looked up, a surprised expression masking their features—the game, long forgotten due to the news. "Already?" One of them asked, her brows furrowed. Due to the surprise, her voice rose slightly making the one beside her glare at her—a warning to keep her voice low.

The woman that brought the news nodded.

"She's only been there for three days!" The same woman exclaimed.

The one that brought the news sighed, before she shrugged, "I guess they figured that she didn't need a timeout anymore"

The one that hit the one that spoke up the first time rolled her eyes. Angrily, she slammed the cards on the table, "As if! If it was one of us, I'm sure they'll make us rot in there for a week. If not, a month!"

"This is unfair" Commented the woman that was hit. She slumped back on her seat, her lips puckered.

The two women glared at her, "You know for someone who has been here for four years, you sure are acting like a rookie"

"I don't see why y'all are taken aback by this" The only one amongst them who hasn't spoken since the beginning said, her voice came out bored as she continued to play the game that the other two had abandoned due to the news. She checked the number on her card and looked up at the other two, one of her brows raised, "We black, she's not. There's the difference" She pointed out, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

The other three nodded. The one with the scar on her hand leaned on the table, her two hands placed on it as she looked at the one who spoke up once, "You're most familiar to this amongst us all Rabia. You've been here the longest"

Rabia smirked slightly as she placed the cards on the table,"Exactly. I know that you shouldn't abandon a card game you betted on because if you lose, you still have to hold up your end of the bargain" she said making the two other groan as they realized that she won. She chuckled slightly and stood up from the seat, "Bathroom duty today after lunch" She told the two before she walked away. That was something she was supposed to do but since she won the bet made, they have to do it. And it was alright, as long as they don't get caught.

Rabia let the smile that was on her face fall the minute she had her back facing them.

What they said was right. She had been in there the longest amongst them all. And there were two things she was sure of.

One, racism exist in that place more than people think.

Two, you don't make friends in prison. You trust no one because anyone can easily stab you in the back. And stabbing in the back in prison meant you'll end up six feet under if you're not careful.

Though she had known the three girls for a couple of years, she still did not trust any of them. She learnt her lesson the hard way.

Before they came, she had three rules that made her still stand alive. Don't get involve with the white people, stay in the shadows as much as you can and the last one, do not trust anyone.

She survived that long because of those three things and she did not plan on ever letting any of the three go.

Not if she wanted to survive in that hell anyways.

~*~

Lunch was served for only thirty minutes, as usual.

The other two Rabia made a bet with left to do her bathroom duty as it was what they agreed on. Rabia took that opportunity to go to the gym and work out. Normally, after lunch, they were allowed to do whatever they want ranging from going to the gym, bathroom facilities, and the recreational areas. It wasn't much but it was better than other facilities that did not have that freedom.

Rabia tied her orange top around her waist, over the baggy trouser that they all wore of the same type. A white sleeveless top replaced the top—one of the few she bought in the in-prison store. Commissary prices are expensive though, so she had to save up the wages she got for years to buy herself something like that since she didn't receive support from anyone outside prison.

She had no one to support her.

The only person she would've thought will support her was Maria. But after their last encounter ten years ago, Rabia knew no help would come from the woman.

And that angered her. She knew she is innocent. She didn't kill the man, but she had no evidence to prove that. Besides, even if she does have evidence, she'd already been convicted. No one would believe her or listen to her. A lot of people in prison have made up fake stories to defend themselves years after being convicted with the hope that maybe someone will believe them. Everyone will just believe that she's just like those people so doing that will be an absolute waste of time.

She didn't bother to wrap anything around her knuckles as she used all her strength to punch the punching bag she stood in front of. It had become something she was fond of. It helped her ease her anger times without number. It had also been something that helped her defend herself when the situation arises. You never know when you needed some self-defense, especially in her early days in prison.

Some of the inmates still despises black people and Muslims. They still find any chance to bully the ones who cannot defend themselves, but somehow, they didn't pick on Rabia as much as before—maybe because they saw what she can do when she gets angry.

That didn't mean they didn't try though.

A couple of inmates passed by Rabia who was too engrossed in punching the punching bag, she was aware of their presence though. She stopped what she was doing and swiveled her head to the side. Her eyes met one of the women, the one at the helm who had her eyes narrowed at Rabia—her lips set into a tight line.

The woman's lips tugged down a bit into a frown when she noticed the unnoticed scar that she hoped the girl will have for life. Back then, wherever she stared at her, she felt happy knowing that she was the cause of the scar and why Rabia is rotting in jail. However, as time passes, the scar started to fade and now, it's barely noticeable. That angered her more than anything.

"What are you looking at?" One of the woman's goons asked. A brunette that had her arms and face covered in tattoos of scorpions and whatnot. That enough made people fear her, not to talk of how well built she is.

Rabia moved her gaze away from the first woman to her goon. She gave her a once over then looked away and continued what she was doing earlier, pretending as if they weren't there. She had long learnt that ignoring them is the answer. It always was.

"Is she deaf or something?" The tattoo covered woman asked the one she takes orders from.

"She's pretending she doesn't see us" The woman grumbled lowly, her eyes still narrowed at Rabia who's punching her punching bag ignoring their well-known presence. She stepped closer to Rabia, tapping her shoulder aggressively. "We're talking to you!" She exclaimed as she successfully detached Rabia from the punching bag. A smirk danced on her lips. She was enjoying every bit of what's going on.

Rabia sighed as she looked down. She then looked up, her face expressionless, "I don't want any trouble" She said, trying to keep herself calm.

She couldn't afford to lose her calm. That's what they want.

And if she does that, she might just end up doomed—or sentenced to a few more years in prison.

"Neither do we" The woman looked back at her goons who nodded in agreement, their eyes and smirks said otherwise though.

The gym was empty then. No one was there except for the two of them and for some strange reason, the police cop that always guards the place wasn't there at the moment. There were there alone with no one to save her if they decided to do something to her. Which judging by the look in their eyes, they will.

She stepped back, almost tripping on something. She could defend herself against one or two of them but not five. That she couldn't handle as much.

"Where are you going? Don't tell me you're scared" The woman with tattoos mocked, her lips stretched into a smirk as she mocked Rabia.

"I think she's scared" One of the women said in a song-like manner. She does that when she's mocking someone, and that's all the time.

Rabia stepped back again, gulping. She knows firsthand that these women don't fight fair. The word doesn't exist in their library. Besides, whether they fight fair or not, she would lose. She would've stayed and at least try to fight them off, but that will be pointless.

As she stepped back, trying to create as much space between them as possible, she bumped into someone. She swiveled her head back, but before she could see the woman, a sack was placed over her head shielding her away from the surrounding. She thrashed in their hold, trying to push them away. She tried to scream, to gain someone's attention who would help her but a hand was placed over the sack, directly where her mouth is—muffling her screams.

She heard their wicked laughter and snickers. As much as she tried to fight against their hold, it was impossible because they outnumbered her to say the least.

However, one thing made her body still.

The piercing pain.

She didn't go through something similar to that but when she placed her hand over where she felt the pain, and then felt something soaking her hand, she knew she was stabbed.

And in the last moments she had before her eyes gave up on her, she watched through blurry eyes as they removed the sack from her head and ran away, leaving her body to slump and crash on the floor—surrounded by her own blood.

That was all she saw before black spots covered her vision and she then blacked out.

~*~

The sound of something beeping was the first thing that Rabia heard. Then slowly, she felt the weight that pressed her body down being lifted, and she could finally move her finger at least. Her eyes followed afterwards. Slowly, she opened her eyes and blinked, trying to get them accustomed to the blinding light.

After a while, she became accustomed to the light and could finally see properly.

She was in a room that has everything in white color, except for the machine that kept beeping beside her. It wasn't a big room, the opposite actually—one she as the prison's hospital room judging by how unkempt it is.

Her mind was hazy as her eyes were blurry. She was trying to remember how she ended up in that place but that only made her head hurt more than it already is. Throbbing would be the word to describe the situation perfectly. She used the hand that wasn't attached to an IV and massaged her temples, slowly, her vision returned back to normal.

The sound of the door being swung open was what snapped her attention to that part of the room. That was when she noticed the female cop that stood by the door, eyes trained on Rabia unmoving with lips stretched into a straight line. She had been watching her every move with hawk eyes, but refused to utter a word to her.

Same thing applied to the doctor that walked in. A woman who Rabia was accustomed to. She had been in the infirmary times without number that she knew the woman. That didn't mean that the woman liked her though, and neither does she.

Rabia tried to sit up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," The woman's voice came, sounding bored to the core, "You could open up your stiches"

Rabia ignored her and sat up, leaning against the scrawny pillow making the doctor roll her eyes. "What happened?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

The doctor handed her a cup of water with some pills. Rabia took it from her and gulped the pills along with the water. "You got into a fight and got yourself stabbed, the usual" The doctor said as if it's a normal though. Though, it is. It isn't the first time Rabia got into a fight and got stabbed, and by the looks of it, it won't be the last time either.

"How bad is it?"

"Lucky for you, it's not that bad. Give it a couple of weeks and you'll be completely healed. Just try and not get yourself stabbed again or killed this time around before that happens"

It was Rabia's turn to roll her eyes despite the pain in her abdomen. She tried to fix the pillow she's leaning on, but that only made her wince due to her rash movements. She placed her hand over the place and bit her lower lip to hold in the pain.

"I told you not to move but you just won't listen" The doctor offered her a fake wide smile. One that made Rabia know that without a doubt, the woman is enjoying seeing her in pain.

So, she ignored her.

"Now do you mind telling her who stabbed you?" The doctor pointed to the police that nodded stiffly.

"I don't remember" Rabia lied. She did remember who stabbed her but there was no point. It's not like they'll do anything to them. The highest they will do is put them in the black room for a day or two.

"I don't believe you"

"I don't care" Rabia's gaze met that of the woman'sholding no ounce of fear. She didn't have the energy in her to deal with the woman's rants. They'll just find a way to turn the tables and pin the blame on her if she tries to speak up anyways.

What's the point?

The doctor stared at her for a minute longer than necessary. She clicked her tongue and shook her head, "Whatever you say. You can go back to your cell in a day or two. You should be healthy enough by then" She said more to the cop than Rabia. Without another glance, she walked out of the room leaving the two alone.

Rabia closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow. Her eyes flicked to the female cop who stood watching her without batting an eye lash. That made her sigh and sink back in the bed.

The two days are going to be long.

~*~

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Rabia don spend 10 years in prison already, 9 to go😢

Take for instance, what would you do if it were you in prison? Can you handle it?

What do you think is going to happen next?

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Love,Jannah.