Pray

[Mitii]

(Foreword: For those of you that have RPed with me, this is canon to my character's story. Hope y'all enjoy this short story I wanted to write up. ^-^ The continuation of this story can be found here: Mya's new dossier.)

... CELL BLOCK C...

It's night out.

I don't need to be able to look out a window to tell. I know. I've been here long enough to get placed into C block, which is just as shitty as the last two blocks. I wrap my fingers around the cold, iron bars that keep me shut in my own personal version of Purgatory. I can slide my hand out through the bars, and that's enough to tease me into believing that I'm still a free woman. I didn't do it in front of the guards though. If they saw me reaching out and grasping for what little freedom I have, outside of my cell, I'll get my hands or arms whacked by a baton.

I lost my privileges years ago.

I walk away from the obstacle in my way. It's not like I can assert dominance over it, like I do to people. What fucks does a set of prison bars have to give? None. Can I make it give a fuck? No. It's pointless. I can't bend them either, I ain't strong enough for that. So I go back to what I always do: sit on my tiny, narrow ass bed and stare at the wall. The paint is peeling off of the nasty, grimy ass walls, I can see that clearly, don't need a fucking eyeglass to spot it. There's a buzzing in my ears, it's familiar, because I know where these damn flies are festering: the toilet. The fucking things never manage to stay unclogged, doesn't matter the cell you're in. If you take a shit, piss, throw up, fucking anything, and flush, count your blessings, cause' that thing is fucked. Then you have to spend a night or two walking around your temporary crap infested pool, smelling your own shit, or your friend's, until a crew can be sent to fix it, and who knows how long that'll take.

I lost everything years ago.

All I have are moans, groans and screams of the damned. That isn't a joke. Some people here, the weak, don't survive for long. If you hear someone groaning, it's because that person is about to hit their breaking point. Sanity is something you can lose just as quickly as the freedom us prisoners used to have. This isn't something that I thought about before, but sitting on my squeaky bed on its rusty metal frame, there isn't much I can think about, so I did. One of the things I thought about was the mind, how if enough bad happens, there's a chance that you might just snap. Everyone snaps differently, but for the most part, depression is what grasps prisoners the most. There's someone crying, I hear him, in the cell opposite of me across the open area of the block. I can see the man through the corner of my eye. He's on his hands and knees, he's got his hands together in prayer, he's praying to God cause' he got nothing left. He doesn't know that God isn't listening. The man's sobbing and speaking quickly, mumbling and stumbling over his own fucking words to the point it's just incomprehensible gibberish.

Nobody wants a reminder of what they've lost.

I press my fingers against the so called bed that's actually a fucking slate of metal. If I had a razor,I would try to cut into my wrists until I bled, just to make the crying stop. My blood is boiling, I need a release, and it needs to happen, now. Otherwise I'll be driven insane, too. I shoot up from my bed like a God damn missile, my eyes locked onto the crying man on the other side before I fire:

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER!"

I meant to shout at him, but it came out like a scream. The man doesn't take his eyes off of the floor, but I know he's been hit because of his silence. He stays quiet, and that's all I wanted. A guard passes by my cell, baton in hand, smacking the end of the stick against his palm, rhythmically, same pace as my heart beat. My face must have gone pale, because after he glared at me through those dark, sleep ridden eyes, he continued his patrol. I didn't notice that my hands were shaking, or that I was frozen in place, until I tried to move. When I didn't feel weak in the knees anymore, I collapsed on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. Getting into a fight with a wild boar like a prisoner is one thing, because some of them are missing a chunk of their brain. Going up against the domesticated dogs, the guards, is something else though. They make or break you. Literally. I never knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a prison sentence. Now I know that my punishments were light. I should have been more of a hard ass, back when I was a police officer.

It's lights out.

I don't need to be able to look out a window to tell. I know. Cause' all of the cells are locked and the lights, off. That means it's past twenty-three hundred hours. I can't sleep. I have to. I close my eyes, but all I can remember is the day of my court martial. I knew the day would come, where all the bad shit I've ever done caught up with me. I can still hear the words said that day. They taunt me, whispering into my ear:

"The defendant is convicted of numerous charges. In the years ... while stationed on the U.S.CM Almayer ... records from Security state that ... minor crimes include ... resisting arrest, prevarication, trespassing, insubordination, intoxication ... major crimes committed ... disorderly conduct, neglect of duty, assault and escape. Many of these crimes were committed more than once, indicating that ... uncontrollable and unreliable personnel that should be, and hereby will be, discharged from the United States Colonial Marines to serve a sentence of four years, in a medium security correctional facility... for the safety of ... far away ... on prison station ... I hope you sincerely learn your lesson this time, Ms. Mya Miller."

The voice fades in and out, probably because I don't remember everything word for fucking word. Dumb motherfuckers, every single one of those stupid fucks onboard the Almayer. Does anybody care that I'm stuck down here? Nah. Did anyone show up to my court martial? If they did, I didn't fuckin' see em'. Didn't hear shit from anyone. Poor Mya's going to jail? Who gives a fuck! Leave that bitch to rot, we don't need that thot shitting up the Almayer. Yeah, that's probably what they said when they heard about what happened. Bullshit. I studied hard in school, went to college, and even with people making fun of me for my attitude everyday, I still graduated at the top of my class and learned to be a fucking good ass engineer. I joined up with my dad and served en la Policia Nacional, grew a bigger pair of balls than I had already. Went on to serve in the U.S.C.M and served on a spaceship. What more could I have wanted?

I sat up in my bed, my back hurting after I fell on top of it. I pressed my hand against the wall to prop myself up as I leaned against it. My eyes stared at the bars of solid iron.

Not this.

All of my achievements were for nothing, I would've left the military held in high regards. A fine college graduate and police officer, dutifully served in the military for x amount of years. That's the story I could've had. Maybe I could have even married after I left the U.S.C.M. Instead the ending I get is: A deranged college graduate and police officer, begrudgingly served in the military for x years before being court-martialed. Currently serving time in prison.

I pull my knees up close to my chest.

In the end, nobody gave a shit about me. My family must have heard about where I am, and why.
My parents haven't ever visited me.
My cousins haven't visited me.
None of the people I thought were my friends have visited me.
Adan, Mark, Isaac, Ryan, Vanechka, Jackson, Echard. Not even the shitty Synth, Goldman.
No one has visited me.
I miss the Almayer.
The engineering department, the trap Chief Engineer, Ali. The brig, where I could find Tess.
Requisitions, the one place I always hated with all of my fucking being, because fuck them.
Stealing booze from the Liaison's stash, one of my favorite past times.
I miss it all.

Tears are blinding me. I blink them away. I won't fucking cry. I don't need to remember what I've lost, but I'm ready to break. I don't want to break. I don't want to break, anyone, anybody, please don't let me break. I get on my hands and knees, and sit on the soles of my feet. I'm ready to clasp my hands together and start believing in God in a hurry, before I lose my mind. My hands are inches from each other, I'm crying, I'm crying, someone tells me to shut up but I'm not listening anymore, I'm staring down at my uncomfortable bed, a guard walks by my cell, he's dragging his baton across the bars, the bars are ring ring ringing, my hands are clasped together and I'm praying fast, to the point I can't make out what the fuck I'm saying, the guard's coming for me, I hear the jingle of his keys, the commotion from the inmates is getting louder, everyone's telling me to shut the fuck up until

an explosion goes off.

And just like that, I don't matter anymore. My ears must have done the screaming for me, cause' I can't hear anything, not after the boom. The guard rushes out of my cell and the second he does he's full of holes. I see the life slipping out of him, he's reaching out to me with his hand for salvation but I spit down on him, like he would have done to me. The block is in chaos, painted red by both blood and the lights of the alarms going off. The moans, the groans, the screams, they're mixed with death and depression, both intertwined so well I can't tell the difference between those crying and those that are dying. In my head, I can only think of one thing:

God answered.

That's the first thought that crosses my mind, everyone I wanted dead is dropping before my eyes. I'm not scared, because I'm happy things are finally going my way. I can't see the cell across from me anymore, not through the smoke. I see a dark silhouette of a man walking through the gray mist, he stops in the center of it. I still can't make him out, but I do make out his voice. I heard it once. Once was all I needed:

"This isn't the United Americas. We actually have true independence and freedom, here. Come with us, all of you. We'll show you. If you let us."

[Avalanchee]

Quite interesting

[Garrison]

A bit too focused on the 'everything sucks'. But I suppose that was to help paint the scene as well as illustrate the state of affairs.

I like the formatting and presentation too. Its a nice touch.

Overall: A nice read.

[AmazinglyAmazing]

Oh boy

[Mister Jeether]

Pretty freakin good.

[KeyWii]

Not bad, actually.

[Gigazer]

Noice

[Mitii]

Hello!

Many thanks to you all for the positive vibes. I'm very happy that you liked my story.

A bit too focused on the 'everything sucks'. But I suppose that was to help paint the scene as well as illustrate the state of affairs.

I like the formatting and presentation too. Its a nice touch.

Overall: A nice read.

Thank you for the feedback!
Yes, I did focus on the 'everything is going wrong' bit. I hope it wasn't too heavy handed.
The reason for it is that Mya's a character that's been established as USCM since 2015. I needed a very good reason for her to want to change sides. Having her lose everything was the best route for me to take, and it aligns with the RP in-game as well, since people that know her have come to know Mya for the troublemaker that she is. I found it fitting that one of the most rude characters on the Almayer, who always messes with Command and Security, has her luck run out. Hope this is a good enough answer for why I focused on all the negativity in Mya's life at this point in her lifetime.

[Dorkkeli]

Wow someone who actually puts effort in arrpee
+1 to whatever you are trying to apply for in the next 2 months and 7 days

[Mitii]

Wow someone who actually puts effort in arrpee
+1 to whatever you are trying to apply for in the next 2 months and 7 days

Many thanks!