Page 1 of Dangerous Beginnings

Chapter 1

Born a Sinner?

To Ton – Without you, there would be no beginning.

Unknown

With my wrists shackled to the cold metal table, I sit in silence, my thoughts spiraling into the darkness.

Thinking became my addiction years ago when I lost everyone to share my thoughts with. The fewer words I spoke, the sharper my mind became, and with that sharpness came a dangerous edge. Years ago, when I killed for the first time with my bare hands. Ever since that day the fire within me has been burning me up from inside out. I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind. I wasn’t born in this world to bring sunshine, I was born to make this world crumble under your feet, to eliminate light and consume it in darkness.

November 6th, 1 a.m.

I have been sitting here for over an hour and cuffed to a table, hands and feet. These hands have shed so much blood—the blood of the innocent, the blood of the guilty. Power is something I thrive on; you feel what power is when you hold someone else’s life in your own bare hands.

The only thing I see are the cameras and guards keeping a close eye on me. I can feel their eyes on me through the two-way mirror. Screams find their way through the hallway. This place is as dark as night, full of the worst people in the country. Name it and you can find it here; killers, rapists, human traffickers and so many more. I am supposed to be brought to the hospital department, but I don’t recall seeing any appearance of a rush.Blood stains my clothes like it stains my hands. I lead, I order, and I decide. They don’t know who I am, or what I represent. I lead, I command. I am the architect of darkness.

November 6th, 1:10 a.m.

Locked in a cell.

Isabella

November 6th, 1 a.m.

I get up from under the warm sheets of my bed. It’s a gloomy midnight in New York City, cold and rainy. Shivers appear on my skin as soon as my feet touch the cold tiles of my bathroom floor.

I work every single moment that I can. It’s exhausting, but I need the money. I live alone, and with my parents also struggling to get by, asking them for help is not exactly an option. That along with the fact that I do not have a good relationship with them. My landlord increased the rent last week. I was already barely able to afford it before. I always knew he was a prick anyway.

I take a hot shower and comb my hair. I grab my comfiest clothes and apply a little mascara. I love my job; I love being able to help and take care of people. I have been working as a nurse for over three years now. When I turned 21, I got my first job at a local clinic near my hometown. Now three years later, I need a new one. After the clinic shut down due to the economic crisis I got transferred. The place where I got transferred to is where I still work, the healthcare department of a maximum-security prison. I’ve been working here for about a month now, maybe even less. It’s completely different from where I used to work, but I’m still adapting to the new environment. I’m not sure yet if I am going to keep working here though, I just really need the money.

I make a quick breakfast and a cup of coffee before heading out of the door at 2 a.m. Yes, 2 a.m. It’s pitch black outside as Iget into my old Toyota car. I turn on the radio and connect my Bluetooth. It’s a 20-minute drive, and I try to stay awake with some pumping music. In the car I drink another cup of coffee, as my sleep schedule has not been the best with these midnight shifts. And with not the best…I mean that I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

There’s no sign of life, no houses, no lights—just dense trees, open fields, and an occasional rustle of wind. The prison itself sits in the middle of nowhere, secluded and surrounded by miles of barren land.

After a solid 20-minute drive I arrive at the security gates. Tall, wrought iron bars rise from the ground, gleaming under the soft glow of perimeter lights. It’s a fortress of steel and iron. Razor wire coils along the top of the fence, glinting in the moonlight. Surveillance cameras at every corner, their lenses sweeping every inch of the perimeter. Beyond the gates, a maze of high walls stretches out before me. Slowly, the weight of the place settles over me.

I get checked by the many guards that guard the prison and its facilities. After the ID check, I get to my parking spot and park my car between the lines. As soon as I step outside, I’m greeted by my colleague, Lea. Her short, chestnut-brown hair is neatly tucked behind her ears. Her features are soft, kind. Red stains her cheeks from the cold. Lea has been showing me how things work around here and has been my helping hand through my entire first weeks. We don’t differ much in age; she’s just turned 25. We’ve become pretty good friends over the past few weeks. As she approaches me, she waves her hand to greet me.

“Good morning sunshine!” she shouts.

“What makes you so happy at this time, crazy woman?” I ask her, laughing.

While walking across the parking lot, she tells me that she finally secured her new apartment. I look at her and squeak inexcitement.

“Really?! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you. I really should come and help you with decorating the place next week!” I tell her, and she nods happily as she leads us into the front building of the prison.

As we walk inside, we get checked for a second time by guards, and this time they check our bags too. Once we are completely searched, they let us go through the steel doors. We walk towards the open space, which is also used for lunch breaks and presentations. Nick gives everyone the updates of every single day and tells everyone their schedule for the day. Nick is what you would call the average middle-aged man. His silver-streaked hair and the faint lines of a life well-lived are a testament to his years. Incipient smile lines and the deepening wrinkles around his eyes hint at a man who’s seen and done much yet remains grounded in the mundane routines of daily life. Lea and I take a seat as Nick starts talking.

“Welcome everyone, please be seated.”

After 15 minutes, Nick finishes and walks over to us, dismissing Lea.

“You good Nick?” I ask as I see his distressed gaze lingering over me.

“I need your full attention for this conversation we are about to have,” he tells me. I stare at him while my eyebrows furrow ever so slightly.

I walk towards the front of the room, following Nick’s movement.

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