You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison

The room was small, about five feet by ten feet I'd guessed, but comfortable. I was glad; I was afraid I would get claustrophobic in the cell.

A bunk-bed stood against the long wall. I was too short to see the top bunk easily, but gathering from what was visible, it was messed up, as if someone had just slept in it. The bottom bunk, however, was a sheeted mattress with a blanket, sheet, pillow, and two jumpsuits—one orange, one striped black-and-white—folded on it. Below the bed were two drawers. One was slightly opened and had various items spilling out of it. The other was wide open. It contained three more orange jumpsuits, two striped jumpsuits, a towel, a cup, a toothbrush, an ankle clamp, and a wristband. I picked up the wristband and examined it.

Name: IERO (Jr.), FRANK ANTHONY THOMAS

DOB: 10-31-1981 ID: 77778081

Sec. No.: 3 Division: B Cell No.: 3B5

"Gerard's your cellmate." Alicia said plainly. "And like I said, the door at the end is the bathroom." She moved her hand apathetically in the appropriate direction. "There's soap and toothpaste in there. No more than ten minutes in there at a time.

"The day's schedule comes every morning through the slot on the door. Stuff marked in red's mandatory. No weapons, keep fights to a minimum."

I couldn't help but notice she never said "no fights."

"You can't leave the division without me," She carried on. "I assure you, you'll be under constant supervision." She gave a wicked smirk. "Even when you think you're not," she added as a seemingly unnecessarily ominous afterthought.

With that, she turned on a booted heel and walked out the door, leaving me alone.

Alone, with…with these strangers. These strangers, whom are criminals.

Well you're a criminal too, Frank, I thought to myself. I shuddered at the thought.

My thoughts were scattered by a click and a bang as the Division door opened. Alicia walked in and held the door. Five men stood in the doorway.

"Like I said this morning, you guys, we've got a new guy." Alicia announced, in response to which there were some unsettling chuckles. "Everyone introduce yourselves." She knocked on the doors to occupied cells. "You too!" she raised her voice so that it would travel through the metal.

"God, a fucking newbie." A spikey-haired guy ceased conversation with the weird-looking dude beside him to groan at me. "I'm Billie Joe." He rolled his eyes before continuing down the hall to his room.

"I'm Tré." Billie Joe's (I assumed) friend said, nodding to me, looking even odder than earlier, before turning and following Billie Joe to their shared cell.

"Pedicone." A tanned, rude-looking guy with a shaved head muttered to me as he passed on the way to his cell.

"I'm Ray!" The tall Fro from the first room said cheerily, extending his hand to me.

"I'm Frank," I said, smiling. I decided I liked Ray.

Ray stepped aside and his blond, bearded cellmate stepped forward. My name's Bob." He said, barely above a mumble. He then followed Ray back to their cell.

"Brendon." The singing guy stated. "Spencer." He pointed to the drummer. "Frank?" He pointed at me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool." He and Spencer went back to their room.

The girls walked up next. "Hey, I'm Jamia!" The pixie-cut said. I realized then she was rather pretty. Maybe if I liked girls, I'd find her attractive. Her dark hair framed her flawless, soft face perfectly. Her brown eyes were, for the most part, warm and inviting, but had this slight, cold spark to them. Not unlike that of a criminal.

"Hellooo? Earth to Frank!" Jamia waved her hand in front of my face and grinned.

"Oh, uh, er, um, hi." I said nervously.

Jamia giggled, and stepped back so her roommate could meet me.

"Lindsey." The pigtailed girl said between chews on a piece of gum. She held out her hand, and I shook it awkwardly.

"I'm Frank."

"I know."

With that, she turned on her heel and started walking back to her cell. "Come on, Jamia," she said without turning her head. Jamia followed her like an obedient puppy.

God, I miss my dogs, I thought. All 9,874,328,943,765 of them.

My thoughts were jerked away when I saw the final two men.

One was relatively tall—about 5'10", I estimated—and had brown-blond hair, straight and tucked under his thick, black-and-white glasses. He was skinny, and his odd stance made his knees turn in and look awkward. His face was perfectly void of emotion: his mouth was smoothed into an even line, his eyebrows level and eyes blank, as if apathy was his only known expression.

"That's Mikey. He's Gerard's brother." Alicia said, almost dreamily, which weirded me out a little. Mikey looked up for only a moment, but I hardly noticed anyway; by then, I was focused on the man behind him.

I recognized him immediately; he was the guy I saw outside earlier. He was even more attractive up-close. His bright-white hair was short and even. It was even whiter than his pale skin, and contrasted sharply with his dark eyebrows. Hazel, nearly-brown eyes sparkled with interest and gleamed with insanity. His thin lips stretched into a smile.

"Hey. I'm Gerard." He spoke. When I just gawked at him like an idiot, he continued. "So I guess we're cellmates?"

I nodded dazedly.

Gerard curled his lips into a grin. "Good," he said, and started walking towards the cell door.

I followed him.

He stopped in the doorway and looked at me over his shoulder. "I can't wait to get to know you." His words seemed kind, and almost romantic (or maybe I just wanted them to). But I couldn't help but notice that they were also tinged with insanity.