The van arrived at the prison gates, which slowly swung open. The vehicle drove into the heavily guarded compound and stopped in a concrete yard. Soldiers led January out, her hands cuffed, and marched her toward the large, well-structured prison building.
Inside, they took her to the reception area. They searched her thoroughly for contraband, took her fingerprints and photo, conducted a medical check, and confiscated her belongings. A guard recited the prison rules in a bored voice: no fights, follow orders, lights out at 9 PM.
Afterward, soldiers escorted her toward the cells. January's chest tightened as other inmates stared, their eyes sharp and hostile. But instead of placing her in the main block, the guards led her down a quiet hallway to a separate wing. The cells here stood empty, the air creepily silent.
They shoved her into one. "Your new home," a soldier grunted, slamming the door.
Alone, January sat on the narrow bed. A chill crept down her spine. Prison was a place no one wanted to be and now, neither did she.
She looked around the room. It was small, and she felt relieved to have no cellmate. The room had a tiny table, a chair, a sink, and a toilet in the corner. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair.
Wearing the prison uniform made her angry, she was innocent but the room was still better than living under the bridge. Still, she'd rather be homeless than here.
Sitting alone, she wondered why they'd separated her from the other prisoners. This was a women's prison, but isolating her felt wrong. Still, she was grateful for the quiet.
January stood up and walked to the small cell window to look outside. The prison door opened, and a woman (who had given her the orientation earlier, though January didn't know her name) walked in with an officer.
"Let me introduce myself again. I'm Mrs. Avery. I supervise inmates here," the woman said. January nodded. "Come with me," Mrs. Avery ordered. January followed her out.
"Here's a list of rules. Read it again," Mrs. Avery said, handing her a small paper.
As they passed the main prison cells, all the inmates stared at January. She felt uneasy. They left the cell unit.
"Where are you taking me?" January asked. Mrs. Avery didn't answer and kept walking.
They kept walking until they left the main building. January wondered where they were taking her. They walked to the side of the prison compound, where a larger building painted entirely white stood.
"Where is this place?" January asked as they entered the white building. Everything inside walls, floors, doors was completely white. They passed a reception desk but didn't stop.
"We need to run some tests on you," Mrs. Avery said.
"What tests? You already did tests earlier! I'm fine!" January stopped walking.
"Don't worry, okay. This is just a final check. Nothing to worry about," Mrs. Avery replied.
"Did everyone else do this test?" January asked, rooted in place.
"Yes, everyone did. Let's go." Mrs. Avery nudged her forward.
As they walked down the white hallway, January noticed rows of closed doors. One door was slightly open. Inside, doctors struggled to pin a thrashing person to a bed.
"What's happening there?" January couldn't help asking.
"Don't mind that," Mrs. Avery said sharply. January's unease grew.
After more walking, they stopped at a door. A soldier opened it, revealing a room with a white patient bed, machines, and medical staff.
"January, sit on the bed," Mrs. Avery ordered. January obeyed while Mrs. Avery whispered to the doctors, who nodded.
"I'll return when the tests are done," Mrs. Avery said, leaving the room.
A doctor approached. "Relax. We're just running a few quick tests."
January changed into a patient gown and lay down. The doctor prepped machines and picked up a syringe.
A familiar burning rose in her throat—the same nausea she'd felt fleeing her parents' home years ago.
The doctor leaned in with the syringe. "Hold still."
She choked. "I'm gonna,"
The vomit hit him first, thick and hot, splattering his glasses. He staggered back, slipping on the floor. Vomit sprayed the bed, machines, and nurses. A nurse screamed as it sprayed her shoes. Another nurse slipped in the mess, crashing into the tray. Syringes clattered to the floor. January kept retching, her body curling forward, until all that came up was air. Chaos erupted as the medical team fled, gagging.
The doctors scrambled out, cursing. January wiped her mouth on the gown. Her legs shook, but she almost smiled.
"What is going on here?!" Mrs. Avery stormed into the room, her eyes widening at the vomit splattered chaos.
"Ma'am, she vomited! I think it got in my mouth," A nurse exclaimed, fleeing the room.
Mrs. Avery marched to January, who lay limp on the bed. "What did you do?!"
"I'm sorry… it's not my fault. It's the… environment," January rasped.
"I don't care! Clean this up. Now!" Mrs. Avery's voice sharpened, her calm facade cracking.
"I can't… I'm too weak…" January tried to sit up, her arms trembling.
"You're in prison, not a hotel! Get. Up!"
January's legs wobbled as she stood. "I'm trying."
"Move!"
She took one step before collapsing. The room spun, voices fading. Mrs. Avery's shouts, distant footsteps, as everything went black.
January woke in her cell, disoriented. She sat up slowly, memories flooding back - the tests, the vomit, Mrs. Avery's rage. "Oh no… I messed up," she whispered, rubbing her temples.
The cell door clanged open. Mrs. Avery stood rigid in the doorway. "Glad you're awake. Dinner first, then you're cleaning that mess. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," January mumbled.
"Up. Now."
January followed her into a dim corridor. Other inmates shuffled toward a cavernous dining hall. Stainless steel tables and plastic chairs filled the room. A line snaked toward a counter where guards slopped gray stew onto trays.
January grabbed her tray, lukewarm stew, stale bread and scanned the room. Most tables were packed, but two sat empty. She hurried to the nearest one.
The room fell silent the moment she sat.
A woman with jet-black hair, sharp cheekbones, and sleeves of tattoos climbed onto a table. "Well, well… look who decided to join us, some fresh meat!" Her voice sliced through the quiet. All eyes locked on January, who stared at her stew.
"Oh no," January breathed.