Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“Open your mouth.”
“Stick out your tongue.”
“Squat low to the floor.”
“Stay there and cough.”
“What?” Cynthia didn’t understand. She stood up, arms still crossed over her head.
“Cough. Otherwise, we’ll have to check you internally for anything you’ve placed inside yourself,” the guard explained with a weary expression.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Cynthia whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Are you choosing the internal exam?” the guard asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Then squat and cough.”
The other guard searching through her clothes muttered under her breath, “First timers.”
Quickly, Cynthia followed the woman in charge’s instructions. Forcing herself to cough, she waited until she heard the next order.
“Stand up.”
She rose, trying to control her shaking. The women on duty weren’t mean—this was simply overwhelming to her. I never even got sent to the principal’s office in school!
“Turn around.”
“Lean over and spread your buttocks.”
“What?” Cynthia stared at her, appalled. What were they going to do to her?
“You’ve cooperated up to now. Don’t give me any problems,” the guard suggested.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia saw the other guard set her clothing aside and move closer, as if they anticipated she would cause a problem. “Sorry. I just didn’t understand. This is embarrassing,” she reassured them as she turned around.
“Try having our job,” the first guard muttered as Cynthia turned around.
Face flaming, Cynthia bent over with her hands on her knees. She started to rise but heard, “Spread your buttocks with your hands. You’re not hiding anything in your ass, are you?”
“What? No!” she answered emphatically, looking over her shoulder at the two women now staring at her suspiciously after what they considered her second attempt to circumvent the process.
“Then…”
Cynthia moved to comply as she swallowed hard. Grasping her rounded cheeks, she spread her bottom to reveal the opening inside. To her relief, she heard, “Stand up. Here are clothes to put on.”
A pile of material and a pair of slip-on shoes waited for her on the table. She rushed to them and dressed in the sports bra and underwear before pulling on the baggy clothing provided. So thankful to be covered, Cynthia didn’t even focus on the items she threw on her body. When dressed, she turned toward the guards with her gaze fixed on the floor. She couldn’t look at them.
“Am I done?”
“Go through that door. They’ll take you to the next area.”
Please don’t let this be my life.
Feeling more depressed than she’d ever imagined, Cynthia tried to escape by imagining this was a horror movie she was watching. That lasted for a few seconds. This was so much worse.
Carefully, she answered a million questions about her mental health, gang affiliation, and prior criminal activities, knowing that one wrong answer could have drastic consequences. Her head spun with the number of orders she was expected to follow immediately and without questions. When they finally announced she’d be taken to her cell next, Cynthia stood quietly in the location they’d indicated she should wait. Brushing a hand over the baggy clothing that scratched her skin, she realized everything familiar was gone.
There were no windows to see the blue sky or the green grass. Even the air seemed heavy. Cynthia stared at the ugly slip-on sneakers on her feet as the guard opened the bars forming the first barrier to the jail cells. Walking past a dozen people in the small holding area, she wondered if her gaze held the same expression of hopelessness she spotted in theirs.
Her arrival gathered a lot of attention. Guessing new residents provided a distraction from the same-old reality of the inmates’ lives, Cynthia met their gazes straight on as she followed the officer. Ignoring the other inmates’ questions being shouted at her, she tried to maintain her composure. When the guard ushered her into a small, empty cell, she collapsed on the scarred mattress with her back to the wall. She needed to go to the bathroom, but one glance at the stainless-steel toilet standing in the open where anyone walking by could see convinced her she could wait.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Cynthia focused on the one positive thing in her life. She crossed her fingers, hoping that somehow, there would be some light at the end of this black tunnel. “You did this,” she reminded herself before shaking her head at the fact that despite her criminal action, Easton Edgewater had asked Dirk to meet with her. Cynthia swore to herself she’d apologize to Mr. Edgewater somehow—someway.
After several hours, she was ushered to a cafeteria for a meal that, surprisingly, was not the worst she’d eaten in her life. No one aggressively targeted her, but she was skittish, watching in all directions to anticipate any problems.
“You can relax, new girl. We’re all here waiting to talk to the judge. Any stupid moves here result in a stiffer sentence or kissing parole goodbye. Most people are on their best behavior,” a hard-looking woman across the table informed her.