Chrisse II - Colton Bryant

                                    

                                          
Jail.
                          
For some people, that word means 'a place to keep the problems away'.
                          
To others, 'the bottom place where everything ends or sums up'.
                          
For me, it meant 'routine'. Or 'place where I crash once a week'.
                          
My earliest memory of the inside of a jail cell was when I was 7. My father thought it would be funny to torture me, dropping me into one, with a lot of robbers, criminals and stuff. He wanted to scare the crap out of me, so I'd have a normal, non-criminal life.
                          
Ironically, what he didn't want me to became, it was what I became.
                          
When I was 10, I noticed that girls were attracted to bad boys. So, I decided to become a bad boy myself. I began to stole small things at first. Wallets, watches, those kind of things. I always stole, nothing less.
                          
When I was 18, it became my line-side job, always stealing small, weaponless. If I decided to get big, I knew I was gonna get caught and my life would be over.
                          
Not that my father thought I had a great life.
                          
And now, at 24, I was waiting for him to pull money from my daily job to pay up my bail, so I could get the hell out of here. Of course, I knew that meant that I had to hear him lecture me on the way back home. I wouldn't reply and he'd get even more frustrated, saying that I was ungrateful for everything he gave me and he'd do the 'silent treatment' for two days.
                          
Which, like I said, it was a routine nowadays.
                          
"Hey, Bryant" Officer McMuller greeted me. I groaned and rolled my eyes. That man seems to enjoy to make my personal life Hell "In again, are you?"
                          
"What do you want, McMuller?" I cut his well hidden 'manners' and raised an eyebrow at him.
                          
"Did you already did your allowed phone call?" he reminded me. I held back another groan. Apparently, my father and Officer McMuller got really close over the years. Lucky me.
                          
"Not yet. Ain't giving you any satisfactions... unless, you want to pay for them" I mocked him, smirking. His smile was gone in a second and he pulled the keys of the cell. Great, a beating... This spices up the routine...
                          
"McMuller!!" Another officer yelled at him, before he even put the keys in the lock "Come outside and give us a hand!!" McMuller groaned and I laid back in my seat, which was not very comfortable, anyway.
                          
"You got lucky today, kid..." he grumbled, pointing at me and walking away.
                          
"I'm so scared of you..." I mumbled, mocking him. I started to hear screams and shouts and yells from the cell, so I figured the officers did a big arrest or they grabbed some gang members around. I sighed, noticing it would be a long night.
                          
~oOo~
                          
I must had fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, the cell I was in it was filled with men. They all were around my age, 20/25. Different etnics, social status, everything. They were fighting between each other. In fact, they were all cowering against the wall, further away from were I was. Curious, I turned to see that the other cell had only one person in it.
                          
And that person was a girl.
                          
Not get me wrong, I've seen girls getting arrested and spend the night in the cell right next to mine, but I've never seen a girl that causes so much fear in a group of ten men.
                          
She was wearing cargo pants, with a camouflage pattern, combat boots and red tank top under a short leather jacket. Her hands had fingerless leather gloves and her hair was pulled away from her forehead with a red bandana. Her hair was dull brown, nothing to highlight, but she looked like the kind of girl that took work out pretty seriously. She had muscles and, at the moment, she either could be angry or frustrated. Or maybe both.