Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The sounds of shuffling, banging and screaming coax me from my sleep, my body shivering from the cold air as I slowly become alert. Its morning time judging by the small amount of light that filters through my window and soon the Guards will be forcing me on my feet.

"Get up girly, its time for fun." Banging on the bars to my cell, the Guard takes one look at me as I push myself into a sitting up, trying my best to keep the thin blanket wrapped around me to try and keep warm. My warm breath becomes fog in the air as I yawn, slipping my feet into the prison issued slippers and standing from my bed, if that’s what you could call the thin mattress on a concrete slab. My cell doors open and I throw the blanket onto my bed before slinking out to join the others.

As I line up with the others that were caught as thieves, I think about how I ended up in Lady Pricilla’s Prison for Troubled Women.

♔

I race across the street, heading to the alleyways that would take me to my hide out and to safety. I dodge the cars and bikes that drive by me, my bag slowing me down with the weight of the food inside. But I needed it if I wanted to survive the winter this year.

"Stop in the name of the Crown!" Ahead of me a Man shouts while pointing in my direction. The Police Officer causes the pedestrians to look in my direction with fear and disgust as they part to give him easier access to me. Rolling my eyes, I turn right and head into the dark alley beside me. I know these alleyways like the back of my hand. Growing up in the slums after loosing any memories I had before age six, I learned that the world Is not for a lone child and that to survive I have to be fast and learn faster.

I keep to the shadows as I run through the back alleyways, always zigzagging in hopes of confusing the Police pursuing me. Past crumbling walls, under clothes hanging to dry that were washed earlier in the day by the ladies of the slums, through backyards baren and ruined from years of neglect.

Finally, I stop and slink into a hollow door way and take a moment to catch my breath before checking to see if I have lost my pursuers. Thankfully, I find the coast is clear and decide to make the final stretch to my house, if that’s what you could call the run down single room shack with an attached bathroom I found at eight years old.  

The way to my shack is uneventful, my eyes and ears alert for any movement that indicates the Police have found me, but luckily no one had. With a grin, I stop just before the current alleyway ends and look down both sides of the rundown street. Small bungalows make my little rundown shack look out of place, but it is enough for me to know that no one would think to check the unassuming building that I have been putting work into making is a decent home.

With the coast clear, I run the short distance towards the back door of the shack, slipping silently inside and shutting the door before locking it. I am safe now.

Smiling, I make my way to the small dining table and place my bag on top of it. The first thing I do is sort the food, placing the cans on the small shelf above the minifridge before removing the money and jewels I managed to secure from some rich woman in the shopping district. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I am one step closer to being able to leave the Capitol and buying my own piece of land where I can live a good life. I just need to hang on just until Spring next year.

Taking the money and jewels, I carry them to the bathroom where I lift the loose tile behind the toilet and take out the small tin cookie box. Placing it on the counter, I open the lid with my free hand and sigh at the money and jewelry that greets me. I add my haul to it before securing the lid and hid the cookie tin once more. Making sure the tile is secured in place, I head back to my food stash and take out a few piece of fruit I had stolen today, deciding a small fruit salad is a meal fit for celebrating a good haul. With the diced fruit in the bowl and the scraps in my small compost bin on the table, I make my way to the cot I call a bed and sit down, enjoying the sweet taste of the fruit. It is when I finish the meal that the power cuts out, causing me to curse in the dark.

Placing the bowl on the bed, I stand and make my way to the door. Storms are problematic in the slums, always cutting out the power that we get here. I had thought I fixed this issue when I placed a solar panel on the roof of my hut, something I had stolen three years ago when I got sick and tired of the power cutting out for days, but clearly I need more to keep the power steady here. With a sigh, I exit my home and go to see what I can do to restore power. The fall rain pelts down on my body, causing me to shiver as I make my way to the right side of my shack where the power box is. Reaching it withing a minute, unease settles inside me when I notice the wire to the solar panel has been cut, its stored power that would usually work unable to connect to my power box.

Realizing that I am in trouble, I turn and try to run back inside to the safety of my shack but I am too late. Strong arms wrap around my neck, forcing me back against a sturdy body, one I know I have no chance of fighting against.

“Allison of the Slums, you are under arrest for crimes against the citizens including larceny, theft and burglary.” With that, I am forced onto my knees as a group of Pollice Officers surround me, their guns painted in my direction while another Officer comes to handcuff me. Secured and in their grasps, the Officers pat me down – more like groped me- before dragging me to the back of a transport van alone and left in the dark with my fate unknown.

♔

That is how I become prisoner number five-zero-five-four. There was no trial, no Judge to decide my fate. To the law, I am an unwed fertile female in need of correcting. I needed a strict hand to guide me in becoming a proper female for society. With a sigh, I find that I am last to line up with the other and take a chance to look at the girls in the corridor. Many are like me, here for petty theft or burglary hoping to make a living and find some form of escape from the hell called the Capitol Slums. After our meal, we will be sent to the many facilities to work either in the mines, the textile shops or the farms where we obtain the food we eat. But this is work only for thieves.

For prostitutes, their fates are worse.

If you were caught and arrested as a prostitute and sent here, you have one of two options. Accept the help to change right away and be sent to what we call the “Plush” room, where you will be trained as a proper lady before being sold to the aristocrats as a mistress or be defiant and endure the Guards taking turns raping you until you break and are forced into submission. From there you are sent to the Palace and the Regent decides your fate – although I hear that fate is worse than being sold as a mistress.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I count the number of prostitute in line up – four. These are the ones that were screaming last night, their first night in this prison. These are the ones that said no to being sent to the plush room and after a night of the Guards treatment, were given a chance to reconsider their options and by the looks of their hunched over, wobbling figures, they choose to repent and be rehabilitated. They will be enjoying the plush room from now on until they are deemed worthy to leave.

With a sigh, I follow behind my line as the Guards order us to move, watching a primly dressed woman approach the four women and guide them away. For some reason I find myself being thankful that I stole to survive instead of selling my body as I watch their listless bodies move towards another corridor.