𝖙𝖜𝖔. 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖍

------2nd May of 2017
FREERIDGE, CA
PRISON
04:32 PM------

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Amina buried her head in her hands, her lulling thoughts scattered across her mind. What should she say? Should she deny every allegation? Should she come up with a story?

She sat in a cold, metal chair in a police interrogation room, steadily watching the minutes tick by on the clock. The breeze that milled in the small room made her shiver of cold and fear. She despised the fact that she would probably go back to jail after so long. The minutes passed by slowly as she kept her gaze trained on the ticking clock.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick-

Hinges groaned in protest as the door was opened. A man with brown hair with speckles of grey detectable, approached the silver table. His brooding green eyes piercing through the back of Amina's head. His beer gut bulged over his belt, obscuring the accessory. His pale complexion was dulled by the dim lighting that illuminated the interrogation room.

"Amina Juanpa, or shall I call you Juice?" He hummed, his deep baritone voice creating shivers along her brown skin. Amina cleared her throat, removing all fear from her body. She held her head high and painted a small smile on her lips. "Whatever you like, officer. Unless you know the actual meaning of my name Juice." She chimed.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind her. She kept her gaze locked on the chair before her, in which the officer finally reclined in. He folded his thick beefy arms across his chest.

"Your nickname, Juice, you earned because of the one time a guy attempted to harass you. He touched you in sensitive places to the point where you just cried - giving up the hope to be helped. Just when you were about to give up, a fiery urge to fight suddenly ignited in you. So you viciously beat the guy until he wouldn't stop bleeding. Red Juices poured out of his nose, lip and any other body part you could name. So says your statement,

But I think something different happened that day. It was a drop off gone wrong. He was supposed to give you a package of money in exchange for drugs that he could sell, yet instead he played you and you found it before it could actually happen. You beat the hell of out him just for a few paper dollars." He spat viciously as if the guy was his own son.

Amina tried to keep her cool but she was slowly losing it. "That was not what happened and you know it. He almost raped me. It was self-defense!" She exclaimed angrily. "You murdered him and got away with it! They should've given you life without parole!" The officer yelled, his fist colliding with the table. The map of files slightly moved due to the hard impact.

Amina adverted her gaze to the cuffs that were locked around her ankles. If she did or say anything wrong she could forget any chance of getting out of here soon. "Now, let's start shall we? What were you doing there?"

She let out a quiet sigh, before parting her lips to speak. "There was a party at that house." It was my house. "Did you know of the four hundred and fifty kilos of cocaine that was present in the basement of that house." Amina flickered her brown orbs over to his green ones. Her mouth slightly opened. "Cocaine? Four hundred and fifty kilos!? What are you talkin' bout?" She questioned warily.

The officer rolled his eyes, jaw clenched. "That house is in your nephew's name. Cepheus Downsborough. Tell me, Juice. Where is he?" Amina clenched her jaw tightly shut. She adverted her gazed down to the painful cuffs that embraced her bloody wrists. Silence. Except for the broken AC and dull light bulb that hummed obnoxiously. "I'm gonna ask you one more time. Where is he?" He growled evilly.

No way she was about to snitch on the one person who loved her unconditionally, who provided for her, who protected her through all of the bullsh*t. No way. "You're a pretty lady. There gonna love you in there." The officer hummed in amusement before standing up, causing the metal chair to harshly screech against the cement floor. Amina's head shot up, her brown eyes speckled with shock. "What?! I have a right to have a attorney to my defense! I didn't do anything!" She yelled as two cops bursted into the obscure room, roughly grabbing her by her arms.

"Not if I have proof that you were there. I have witnesses. What do you have? Your little negro friend who was also present at that very moment you two were slanging dope?" He hissed wickedly, his green orbs twinkling in mischief. "You're a f*cking liar! Rot in hell!" Amina spat.

He was lying. She was going to prison. That's how the police in Freeridge operated. They always twisted things until it fit the right profile for them. Never did they tell the damn truth. It were always lies, lies, and more bloody lies.

A lady with small glasses which sat on the tip of her nose, gently grabbed Amina's thumb. She dipped it into the black ink before firmly pressing it onto the paper. The lady was the only person in here which cared for the wellbeing of inmates. The cops already were manhandling Amina as rough as possible. "Name." She demanded, on the contrary to her gentle gesture- harshly. "Amina Juanpa."

"Date of birth?" She questioned while keeping her dull grey eyes locked on the map before her. "22nd of June, 1996." Amina spoke in a monotone voice. Her mind was slowly fading away. Her feelings along with it. "Street name?"

"Juice."

Before Amina could process any more questions, she was roughly shoved into a corner. The dark-skinned, tall cop raised his knee, slamming it into her stomach. She gasped, protectively wrapping her arms around her belly. She didn't have to question why he would harass her without any reason. They had the power to do anything they wanted in here. They could if they wanted to. They wanted to break her.

The cop balled his large hand up into a fist. Amina's eyes opened in horror, afraid of what damage his humongous fist could do. Seeing the expression that was etched onto her face, a smirk lined itself on the cop's face. He swung his fist back before zooming it through the air, colliding it with her cheekbone.

She let out a loud yelp in pain. A sinister laugh vibrated through the cop's chest. He grabbed her by the collar before harshly pushing her in front of the camera. The man behind the device handed her a board with her name and inmate number encrypted upon it. A lifeless expression danced on his face, as if he was perfectly used to the rough manhandling of prisoners.

Knowing the procedure, she held the nameplate up to her chest, staring blankly into the camera. The white ray of flash erupted - signaling her to turn around as the photographer made another mugshot of her profile.

The distress quickly seeped from her body as she stood in line next to Cat. "Did they abuse you?" Amina softly questioned. Cathaleya slowly nodded, casting her gaze down. "If it weren't for these cuffs I would sock them in the f*cking eye." She spat angrily.

"Strip!" A red-headed warden exclaimed. All the inmates did as they were told until they were completely naked. Amina felt piercing eyes on her body. She cocked her head to the left and caught a rough looking woman staring at her. She snarled, lifting her middle finger up. If she complied to her fellow inmates wishes and didn't stand up for herself, she would be raped. That was your fate in here if you didn't do what was necessary.

Suddenly, hard beams of cold water splattered onto her body. She tightly shut her eyes. Screams and curses were thrown at the warden's head as she continued to spray all the inmates. After what felt like hours, it finally stopped. Shivering and soaked, Amina fluttered her eyes open - attempting to warm up her body by wrapping her arms around her. "Squat!" The warden yelled more demanding than before.

Like a row of dominoes, they all squatted. "Cough!" She spat. All women did as she asked except for Amina. Black boots came into her line of vision as she kept her gaze onto the wet floor. Slowly, Amina trailed her brown orbs up to the angry warden. "I said, cough!"

Keeping eye contact with her, Amina did as she said. The red-head hummed in content before slowly backing off. A short Latina walked past them, handing the inmates dark blue uniforms and black boots.

"The three of you." The red-head pointed towards Cat, Amina and the tanned woman. "You're gonna bunk in the Spanish block. The Black bunk can only take fifty-eight more prisoners."

Cat and Amina gasped. "What?! The Spanish block?"

"Are you f*cking kidding me!?" Cat screeched. The short Latina collided her tiny fist into her stomach. She groaned heavily, a fuming anger igniting in her soul. "Calm down. At least we're together." Amina whispered.

"You two are staying in block D. The disrespectful one can bunk in block E." The red-head hissed.

This was worst than any of them would've thought.