Institute for Criminal Youths.

I let out another high pitched scream as my family waved sadly to me from their limousine. The guards were holding me back as I flailed and twisted in their arms...I wanted my parents to come back.

I kept struggling even as they vanished from my view. Only when the guards started to lead me into the dreary building that I let my body go limp with defeat. They carried me in as betrayal and hurt washed over me and I could feel the warm tears slipping down my face. There goes the only thing I had left...my dignity.

I didn’t belong here...I was never meant to wind up in a place like this. I was Victoria West, daughter of one of the richest men in Britain, and I was being dragged into hell. It was a prison for teenagers who had committed some of the worst crimes...and I was one of them now.

A guard raised her eyebrow at me as she shook a plastic box at me. A label on the side told me it was for personal items and I painfully dropped my mobile phone into the box, hearing the depressing and dull thud as it hit the plastic bottom. I was about to walk off when she stopped me again, pointing at the solid gold hoop earrings that adorned my ears.

“No...” I whispered, though it was pointless. She held her hand out and waited for me to drop them into her palm. They had been a birthday present from my mother...the same mother who had insisted that I come here for my own sanity. That’s where she was wrong though...this place was only going to make me even worse.

She thought she was helping me. I knew the real reason though...she was afraid of me. It was all over the news and I suspected it would stay there for a few months. I still heard the news reporter’s voice now; I remember watching the television from my room where I had been locked up temporarily.

" One of Britain’s most powerful and influential families have been hit by mayhem...Mr and Mrs West’s seventeen year old daughter has been found guilty of murder. Rumour has it that her distraught family are sending her to the Institute for Criminal Youths.”

I hadn’t meant to kill him...I only wanted to protect myself. It was useless though...nobody was going believe my story. It was all there, the evidence. The weapon used, the dead body, my blank expression as I stood over his corpse.

I was never going to get out of here.

“C’mon kid. Time for lunch...and I’m sure the others would love to welcome you in nicely.”

I looked up at one of the burly guards with a tortured face, feeling the knot in my stomach twist even more as he held out the unflattering orange jumpsuit. He indicated to a screen for me to change behind and I miserably shuffled over to it, pulling off my expensive sweater with dismay.

Once I had fully swapped outfits, the guard ripped my clothes, the last belongings I had, from my hands and shoved them into a black bag. I felt my eyes tear up again as I was pushed past the steel doors and into a long corridor full of cells.

Because it was for teenagers, there weren’t any metal bars on the prison cells. Instead, there were big, metal doors with a small window in the centre so the guards could check up on the person inside. I peeked through one of the windows and saw a plain white room with a single bunk in. At the side was a toilet and sink with a cracked mirror. A small table was stood beside the bed; I assumed that it was for any items that we could bring in with us such as photographs.

No doubt that they were going to drop my things off in my cell while I was in the cafeteria.

I was led through more corridors of cells and finally we slowed. The guards typed in a code into a small panel on the wall and I watched as the door slid open for us. They pointed for me to walk in first and I moved carefully, as if someone was going to jump me if I walked too fast.

My eyes darted around the large room where I was stood. It was like the rooms I’d passed, white and plain. Except, whilst the cells were quiet and almost peaceful, this room was loud and raucous. That was because it was filled with hundreds of babbling teenagers, all in the same orange jumpsuit that I was wearing.

When I had walked in, every single one of the teenagers turned to look at me and it went eerily quiet. I flinched away from their glares and was shoved by one of the guards to a table with a vacant seat. They told me I could get food if I wanted it but just the thought of eating in here made me feel sick.

That was when they abandoned me and left me to the criminals in the room. I twisted around to watch them skulk out of the room, though a few of the guards were dotted around the room. One of them caught my eye and gave me a small smile of encouragement. He was young with light brown hair, his hand resting lightly on a radio so that he could contact the other guards.

I kept note of what he looked like, just in case I ever ran into him around here. It would be useful to have someone to talk to that wasn’t a convict.

Deciding that it would be better to not make eye contact with anyone around here, I dropped my head onto my arms that were lay across the table. I was fighting against the urge to start screaming as I realised it wasn’t going to help me out much. They’d probably just lock me up in a cell by myself and then I’d truly go mad, without any human contact.

A small cough sounded from beside me and I jumped when I looked up to see a boy sat in the seat to my left. He was shaking his hair from his eyes, it was straggly and black. His brown eyes seemed flat, dull and emotionless. His mouth kept twitching as if he was trying to stop himself from bursting into laughter; his fingers were drumming against the table surface. It was irritating.

“New kid.” He said simply.

I raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at how brave I was feeling. The throbbing sadness and hurt had finally subsided and it was instead being replaced with outrage.

“What do you want?” I hissed at him, the legs of my chair screeching as I pushed it back away from him.

“What do I want?” he repeated, eyes turning up to the ceiling as he mulled over my question. “Well...I’d like to help you.”

From all the things that he could have said, that was not what I had been expecting. It caught me off guard for a second but I managed to reign in the surprise and stare coldly at him.

“How on earth could you help me? I’m in jail, probably for the rest of my life, and you’re offering me help?” I questioned, my hands slapping against my legs.

He nodded to me, his expression distant as if he was thinking. After a few moments, his eyes focused back to me and he was staring at my face like he was committing it to memory. My anger was slowly started to fade away and now I squirmed with discomfort at his gaze.

“I’m Jamie Elson, by the way. Most people just call me Jay.” He told me, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I looked down at it with contempt and a little mistrust. He saw my expression and this time, he didn’t hold back his laughter. It was loud and booming, almost infectious and happy. That is, it would have been if I didn’t know what he was. He was a criminal.

He pushed back his hair from his forehead and looked at me, the smile still faintly on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to like...try and mug you or anything. There’s nothing worth mugging now that they’ve taken all your stuff from you.”

That didn’t really help. Still, I was determined to not show weakness so I stuck out my hand and firmly shook his.

“I’m Victoria West.” I added proudly.

His eyes lit up with recognition but other than that, he didn’t mention that he knew who I was. Realising I was still gripping his hand; I released it quickly and moved my hand to my lap.

This was going to be a long day.