"BOREDOM"

A word that seem momentarily to people, just a small instance when they don't have anything to do.

Everyone work, and when they are done, there comes a time when they have nothing to do but sit around. That's boredom.

Not having to do anything might seem the best to people, but it's the worst for someone like me.

Mostly, this is a small time, because they always have something to do.

But,

For someone like me who has everything, can do anything, can have everything, it's the only thing that makes up not wants to live.

"This place is a meat grinder, kid." I hear that breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Someone like you, you ain't gonna last a week." A man in his 50s with a bit sympathy in his eyes, dressed as a guard says.

"What did you even do to end up here, boy? You looks like someone who would get snapped in half if someone sneezes too hard."

Ren stays silent, just walking in silence, disinterested eyes.

He is a scrawny man with a handsome face, average build and height.

He is held by a police man walking behind him.

The policeman opens the prison gates, a big, co-ed prison.

Ren is walking with his dead eyes, not interested in the world around him.

He enters a large room where many prisoners, male and female, are sitting in the benches lain out in the room.

At a nearby table, a woman is sitting with many other female prisoners. She has broad shoulders, peeling an orange with a knife. Her massive and muscular frame look like a preditor among prey. Her piercing gaze falls upon Ren, a sly grin spreading across her lips.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" She murmurs, loud enough for other prisoners to hear around her.

"A pretty scrawny face in a place like this? Looks like it's a Christmas."

Ren glances her way for a brief moment, then looks ahead. Unbothered.

"A pretty face with a rude attitude, huh. Looks like we are gonna have some fun tonight."

The guard guides Ren to a cell, opening the door and gently letting him in.

"A word of advice, boy." The guard whispers.

"Stay away from that woman from earlier. She is a ruthless killer and targets boys like you."

The guard turns to the woman down at the table, "Don't break him too soon, Valeria." He warns. "Let him settle at least a day."

Valeria chuckles, "No promises, old man."

"Stay safe, kid," the guard says to Ren and walks away, leaving Ren in the cell alone.

Ren gazes at the guard with his no-interest expression and clatter-shut the cell doors. He turns to place himself on the metal bed, lying back with his arms behind his head.

"I'm bored," he sighs, slowly closing his eyes, drifting in his thoughts again.

But before long, heavy footsteps approach, and the door swings open.

"Hey, hey, pretty face, wakey wakey."

Ren opens his eyes, and sees two big eyes closed to his face.

It's Valeria, and many other female prisoners, standing at the cell doors.

She seems to the leader of the group, seeing as others are staying outside.

"You are an interesting one, pretty face." She says, placing her hand on Ren's dragon.

But Ren's expression doesn't change, doesn't bother standing up, just gazing at her with his don't-bother-me eyes.

"You don't belong here, scrawny. Pretty faces like you gets eaten in places like this. But lucky for you, I'm feeling generous." She says, rounding her hands around Ren's dragon.

"Stick with me. Become my plaything. I'll protect you. No one touches what's mine."

Ren blinks slowly, his tone flat.

"No thanks, you can go now."

Her smile vanishes, replaced by a dark scowl. She grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling, pretty face. I'm telling you."

When Ren still looks disinterested, she slaps him hard across his cheek, her palm leaving red "Boredom."

A word that seems momentary to people, just a brief time when they have nothing to do.

Everyone has something to do, and when they're done, there comes a lull—boredom.

Not having anything to do might seem like bliss to most people, but for someone like me, it's a curse.

Most people experience boredom in small doses because they eventually find something to occupy their time.

But, for someone like me, who has everything, can do anything, and can have anything—boredom is the only thing left. The only thing that makes me wonder why I bother to keep going.

"This place is a meat grinder, kid," a man's gruff voice breaks through my thoughts.

I glance at him briefly. A guard in his 50s with weathered features and a hint of sympathy in his eyes walks beside me.

"Someone like you? You ain't gonna last a week," he says, shaking his head.

"What did you even do to end up here, boy? You look like you'd snap in half if someone sneezed too hard."

I don't respond. I just keep walking, my expression as blank as my interest in the world around me.

The guard leads me through the gates of a massive, co-ed prison. The noise is overwhelming—shouting, laughter, and the clanging of metal.

"Stay close, kid," the guard mutters. "This place doesn't take kindly to newcomers."

We enter a large communal room filled with prisoners sitting on benches. Male and female inmates mingle, but the air is thick with tension.

At a nearby table, a woman catches my attention—not because I'm interested, but because her presence dominates the room.

She is sitting with other females, peeling an orange with a small, sharp knife. Her broad shoulders and muscular frame make her look like a predator in a den of prey.

Her piercing eyes land on me, and a sly grin spreads across her lips.

"Well, well," she murmurs, loud enough for those around her to hear.

"What do we have here? A pretty scrawny face in a place like this? Looks like it's Christmas."

I glance her way briefly, then look ahead. Unbothered.

"A pretty face with a rude attitude, huh," she adds, her grin widening. "Looks like we're gonna have some fun tonight."

The guard leads me to a cell, opening the door and gesturing for me to enter.

"A word of advice, boy," he whispers. "Stay away from that woman from earlier. She's ruthless, a killer, and she targets boys like you."

The guard turns to Valeria, who's still watching.

"Don't break him too soon, Valeria," he warns. "Let him settle for at least a day."

Valeria chuckles, leaning back in her seat. "No promises, old man."

"Stay safe, kid," the guard says, locking me in and walking away.

I lie back on the metal bed, my arms behind my head. My thoughts drift aimlessly.

"I'm bored," I sighs, closing my eyes and drifting to my thoughts again.

Not before long, heavy footsteps approach and the cell door creaks open.

"Hey, hey, hey, pretty face. Wakey, wakey."

I open my eyes to find a pair of dark, predatory eyes inches from my face.

It's her—Valeria. Behind her, a few other female prisoners linger at the cell door, watching like vultures circling a fresh carcass.

"You're an interesting one," she says, her tone amused as she places a hand on my dragon.

I don't move, my expression unchanged.

"You don't belong here, scrawny. Pretty faces like you get eaten alive in places like this. But lucky for you, I'm feeling generous." She says, rounding her hand around my dragon.

"Stick with me. Be mine. I'll protect you. No one touches what's mine."

"No, thanks," I say flatly. "You can go now."

Her smile vanishes, replaced by a dark scowl. She grabs my chin roughly, forcing me to look at her.

"I'm not asking, pretty face. I'm telling you."

When I remain silent, she slaps me hard across the cheek, leaving a red imprint.

"That's only because you have pretty face," she growls. "You're mine. Understand?"

She leans in, tightly licking the spot she just slapped, leaving her saliva.

"Tonight, I'll come back. You'll learn what it means to belong to me."

Straightening up, she smirks. "See you soon, sweetheart."

She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I sit up slowly, rubbing my cheek, my dead expression still etched on my face.

"Annoying." i mutter, lying back on the cold, metal bed, closing my eyes.

"You okay, boy?" From the other bed, a man speaks up.

I lazily open my eyes, again, glancing at him. He's a wiry guy with a smug grin. "You've got a hell of a problem, boy."

"Don't talk to me," I mutter.

He ignores me, and continue speaking.

"Name's Parker. And that monster that just slapped you? That's Valeria. She runs the women here. Hell, she runs half this prison. The warden's practically her lapdog."

"Stop talking."

He chuckles. "Last guy her gang went after? They fucked him whole night, broke him. Literally. He didn't last two days."

I close my eyes, hoping he'll take the hint.

"First-timer, huh? Trust fund baby who couldn't handle the real world? Did something stupid and ended up here? Bet you—"

Without warning, the man's words cut off mid-sentence. His lips suddenly get sealed shut as though some invisible glue has fused them together. His eyes widen in panic, and he claws at his mouth, trying to pry it open

His muffled grunts of panic echo in the cell as he claws at his face, trying to pry his mouth open.

"Bla, bla, bla, bla. Shut up," I mutter, turning my head to look at him with my half closed-eyes.

Suddenly, he's slammed back onto his bed by an invisible force. He struggles briefly before going limp, his body pinned in place.

"You were saying something?" I ask, my tone disinterested.

His eyes dart around in panic, but he's frozen, unable to move.

"Let me know when you learn to keep quiet." I wave a hand lazily. "Now, go to sleep."

The force lifts, and he collapses onto the bed. His eyes close almost instantly, his body falling into an unnatural sleep.

The cell falls into silence once more. I close my eyes, a faint amusement lingering on my lips, exhaling softly.

"Much better."