tw // violence??

Amber Easton

This is not happening. I think before flipping to my other side with my feet tangled up in the cotton bed sheets.

"You know, it's actually quite comfortable down here," Harry's voice gets a bit muffled from the way he's laying on the floor beside the full-size bed.

Apparently, the lady at the cash register intentionally gave us the same room. I swear if I knew this was going to happen, I would've gotten off the ferry the moment something smelled wrong.

We tried talking to the staff downstairs, but with the whole language barrier, they spitefully wouldn't budge.

Harry insisted I sleep on the bed, and he'd be on the floor because I'd gotten here first. I honestly have no idea how he can fit in the space between the side of the bed and the wall. Seriously, my claustrophobia keeps creeping up on me in this 11x11 feet room.

After this, maybe I could avoid him for the rest of his trip. It's as simple as that; we'd part our ways once we get back. I mean, he doesn't perform for a few more months — enough time for him to find a replacement or for Claire's injuries to heal. And I'd focus on my own label. The more I think about it, the more enticing it sounds.

I try to push every little thought about this situation out of my mind because, seriously, I'm beyond tired. I try counting my breaths, then start counting sheep until I've caught myself in a stage between falling into sleep and being awake.

With a few more calm breaths, I'm inches away from slipping into my dreams, but suddenly, a loud noise bursts out, continued with a small 'Ouch', which snaps me out of my daze.

"What was that?" I'm fully awake now. An awkward silence sits between us, so I ask again with more perseverance, "Harry?"

"I... I hit my forehead." He whispers shyly, and I slap my hand to my mouth to not laugh. "But s'alright. I'm fine here."

A few minutes pass by, and I hear some shuffling before the same noise followed by an 'Ow. Shit.' erupts from his side again.

"Harry."

"Sorry. I hit it once again."

"Get in the bed, you idiot."

"Wait, what?"

Silence.

"I'm not going to have any sleep with you making loud noises like that all night." I sigh, flipping onto my back. He finally gets up, his duvet wrapped all around him.

With a few steps on the soft carpet, he's plopped down on the opposite side of the bed, rolled up as far from me as he can. "Thank God."

A minute passes by, and I sit up from my position, twist around, grabbing a handful of pillows, then stack them in a tower, so that it's safe we don't disturb each other.

"Much better," I happily sigh, finally ready to fall asleep. Minute after minute passes, and I find myself being so close to falling asleep once again, but Harry's chuckle immediately snaps me out of it.

His small chuckle turns into a belly laugh, and the whole bed shakes as he starts hysterically cackling at something.

"What is it?" Even I let out a laugh at his contagious snickering.

"I'm just wondering." He speaks between his laughter-filled breaths. "When I first came into the room... Did yo-" He tries continuing his sentence but his tongue rolls off another laughter fit with his whole lungs.

"Jesus." He wipes tears from his eyes. "Did you really try to use your toothbrush as a weapon?"

His question catches me by surprise, and it has me cracking up. "...No." I laugh, trying to conceal my idiocy. He hits on the stack I just made, sending the pillows flying everywhere.

Even in this dim lighting, he can see my guilty features. "You did! Oh my God!" He points a finger at me, and I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment.

"Listen." I smile once the laughter dies down, and I find my stomach hurting from the crazy burst we just had. "I panicked, okay? But seriously, you could poke an eye out with that thing."

"I mean, you could've used anything else, but you chose a fuckin' toothbrush." He lets out a small chuckle, and I become more and more exhausted with every second.

"Oh, shut up." I let out my last laugh before shifting onto my side and closing my eyes.

"Goodnight, Amber." His tone is now serious, as he lets out a yawn after the sentence.

"Goodnight, Harry."

My thoughts shuffle through my mind, keeping me up for a while. After a few long minutes, I speak up again.

"Hey, Harry?" I whisper, trying to figure out if he's already fallen asleep or not. "I'm really glad you decided to walk into Beachwood that day."

I wait for a response, but receive none, assuming he's already lulled into sleep.

~~~

Blue.

Such a beautiful color, yet the most frightening shade.

Ironically, everyone says that blue represents freedom and peace. Not in this case.

The police officer, wearing a navy blue uniform, brings me into the isolated cell, which I'm not sure how long I'm staying in.

Right behind me, another criminal, much taller than me, is pushed into the 6 by 8 feet room with two other women laying in their bunk beds, one of which I apparently just woke up.

The officer slams the door behind us, leaving me standing there for a moment and trying to comprehend the situation.

I'm blue.

"How was the call?" A woman with ginger locks questions, laying on the top bunk.

I confusedly open my mouth to speak but then realize she was talking to the tall woman behind me.

To avoid any awkwardness, I take a couple of steps forward, reaching a desk with multiple books on it. I notice a huge stack of unopened letters hidden underneath the volumes.

The three ladies obviously acknowledge me in this confined cell, but disregard me as everybody else did. Even though I pretend like I'm busy with something, my ear catches certain things two of them are saying.

"Well..." I notice an interesting accent in her voice. "I'm goin' to prison. Just waiting to be transferred now."

The ginger on the bunk lets out a breath somewhere between a gasp and a scoff.

"They said it could take up to months 'cause the paperwork's a hassle." Both women seem to be very immersed in their dialogue.

My fingertips graze a few books sitting on a small stack. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure I left the book I previously started in the other cell.

I assume this stack of books is just like the previous; where everyone can freely take and read one to kill their time. Underneath the top one lies the Bible. I slide it off the stack in curiosity, getting to the third book.

"Until then, I'm stayin' here. Feels like home, anyway." They continue to converse.

I lightly touch the book with the title 'Love is a mixtape'.

A small Birthday card working as a bookmark in the paperback catches my eye. My curiosity gets the best in me, and I'm quick to flip the page open where the card was stuck.

A random quote between the sheets draws my attention, and I glide my fingertip between the lines;

'When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remem-'

"The fuck do you think you're doing digging around my books like that?" The tall criminal, who I just learned was going to stay here for a long time, yells at me, and I shove the card back in the book in a matter of seconds.

Shit.

I've seen enough movies to know when to talk, and when to stay silent. In this case, I should keep quiet, so I just look her in the eye, not saying a single word.

"Who do you think you are, huh?" She takes one step in my direction, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up in fear of her creepy tone.

I finally take a closer look at her face and notice a handful of tattoos stretching across her face that she tried to cover with her pitch-black hair. Just looking at the way her face twitches into anger, I feel goosebumps crawling up my skin.

"What's your name, eh?" She raises her voice again, and I try all my hardest to look strong even though I'm shaking on the inside.

The ginger hops down from her bunk, creating a loud thud, and now I seriously start regretting keeping quiet. But then again, it's not smart to give them my real name.

Now that they're less than a foot from me, they tilt their heads to their left in unison, their eyes scanning over my face and carefully analyzing each of my features. It feels like I've swallowed my tongue or been paralyzed because I can't move or say a word from the level of fear they've unlocked in me.

"You know..." One of them lifts their hand up to reach for a strand of my hair and sadistically tucks it behind my ear.

The feeling of a simple harmless touch or a gentle caress of the head that any mother would offer their child suddenly gets tainted in obsolete torment with the help of the chilly graze I just felt.

"You don't look like you belong here. I can see the fear in your eyes, you're not so tough." The other woman utters, her eyes opened so wide, I don't think she's blinked for a second.

"With the princess hair you've got..." The ginger drags her fingers across my curls again, and all I can do is just watch her suck the remnants of emotions I had out of my soul. "Eyes like buttons, and a nose like that, you look like you might as well belong in Hollywood. From now on, we'll call you that — Hollywood."

I can't handle the torment anymore, so I snap out of the eye contact I had with the ginger. I turn my head to the second bunk bed and notice another blonde-haired woman around my age sleeping. For a moment, I catch her pretending when she opens one eye and directly connects our vision.

We stare at each other in awe, and I get the feeling she doesn't wish any harm on me by the way her green eyes lit up. She's the first one to break the five-second contact, going back to pretend she's sleeping.

Before I know it, the other two return to their beds with a creepy smirk lingering on their features. I stand there, leaning against the desk, wrapping my mind around everything that just happened.

I'm Hollywood now.

Almost open-mouthed, still frightened, I make my way to the only empty bed. Laying down on it, a freezing chill rushes up my spine from the way the cold cement scratches against my back. I try to cover myself up with the plasticky blanket offered for me, but it barely covers my toes and creates a pesky noise with each turn I make.

The more and more time goes by, I start wondering why the blanket is so itchy and has a gross smell of laundry detergent. Then, I start guessing how many people have actually been in this cell and used this very blanket.

Maybe I could be wrapped up in this cover, and avoid interacting with the two the whole time here.

I feel like hours have passed with all this thinking, and it must be the middle of the night because the only source of light is the inescapable orange glow peeking through the small window through the door. It never goes out.

I miss the sun.

My mind is so heavy with all the tiring thoughts, and, surprisingly, I fall asleep without even noticing.

//

"Wakey wakey, Hollywood."

I don't have time to comprehend where the quiet whisper came from before a thick object is pressed on my face. It swooshes all the air out of my lungs, and with a few more seconds of confusement, I finally understand that the object suffocating me is a pillow.

What the actual fuck is happening?

A million thoughts rush through my mind in lightspeed, as I scream into the pillow but my voice gets muffled. I squirm around, my hands trying to remove it from my nose, but very soon, I feel an ice-cold hand wrap around my wrists, forbidding me from moving.

Torturing seconds go by until I finally feel the heavy pillow lift from my face a bit, so I get the chance to gasp for air, my blood running cold.

"Shhh... We don't want to wake the others up, do we?" The now-familiar voice whispers near my ear, and I realize it's the tall, tattooed woman playing with my life right now. I try to squirm out of her hold, but she's quick to sit on my legs, straddling me in a way I can't move.

With the other hand that she doesn't have my wrists secured in, she pushes the pillow against my face again, pushing it down so hard that I start hearing my own heartbeat ringing in my ears.

This is it. I'm actually about to get murdered.

In a fucking jail cell.

I try moving my head around to get at least a whiff of oxygen. Her nails keep digging in my wrists, and I'm absolutely sure they've left ugly blue imprints on my skin. Panic takes over my survival instinct, and a layer of sweat collects under the pillow in a matter of milliseconds.

When she feels like I've gotten enough mouthful of cotton, she disconnects the cushion, letting air flow into my lungs. She pushes her hand against my lips to prohibit me from speaking and looks me straight into the eye. It takes moments for me to finally get my blurry vision back to somehow normal, but my breath is taken again when I see the darkness she has in her pupils.

I've never seen eyes as blue as hers; turquoise-sky revealing the darkest blues.

I've never hated anything as much as I despise the color blue now.

"You've got quite the nerve diggin' around my books. Only to then disrespect me like that?" She makes her hold even tighter. "Listen to me carefully, Hollywood." She spits the nickname out like poison.

"You've got 3 days to get out of this cell. I don't care how you'll do it, but I'm not standing the sight of you for more than that." Her hand is still pushed to my mouth, and even if it weren't, I'd be too frozen to speak.

How the fuck am I supposed to do that?

My chest keeps rising up and down shakily in panic. "If the three days go by, and you're still here... Don't act so surprised when this pillow gets removed too late from your lifeless face."

"Do you understand?" She leans closer, uttering the words in a slow manner, making sure to voice them one by one.

Her palm is still trapping my lips but I exaggeratingly nod, showing her that I understand, even though there's no way I can change the cell I'm staying in.

"Good."

With that, she separates herself from my body, and gets back to her bunk, leaving my shaky figure laid out on the cement block, and I feel more lifeless than I would've been if she hadn't removed the pillow in time.

~~~

"Please don't!" My body jolts up in one swift motion. My eyes shoot open with the feeling of just being suffocated. I still can't tell if I'm dreaming or not.

My lungs have gone into panic mode, and my chest is rising up like somebody's pumping air into it. I have sweat dripping down my face, and I feel my eyes watering. It's so hot in here.

I get startled when the awareness hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm in the ferry's cabin, and I'm not alone.

With my vision still changing from black to blurry and normal, I snap my head to where Harry's laying down on the bed, and conclude that he's still sleeping.

I need to get out of here.

Without having a second thought, I get up from the bed as quietly as I can, but my wheezing breaths aren't really helping. With the beep of the door, I'm gone, heading to the place that I hope will offer me some calmness.

***

well... there you go

I'm pretty sure nothing as intense as I just wrote actually happens in jail BUT for the sake of the story, I had to *spice things up*

pls bye... even I'm cringing