Page 2 of Dangerous Beginnings

“Take a seat and listen carefully.” I sit down across from him as tension fills the room. Nick grabs a report and places it in front of me on the table.

“Tonight, the NYPD arrested a man. He was arrested while driving like a maniac, under the influence of drugs and alcohol. We also discovered that he’d been in some sort of fight. So far,we only know that he is a dangerous and crazy inmate. But that is not the lingering issue here.”

Nick’s distressed gaze meets mine as he continues, the wrinkles in his face intensifying.

“They ran a background check on him, but they can’t seem to find any information about him. He simply does not exist in these files.”

I open the file in front of me.

“That’s strange, shouldn’t they always be able to run a background check on anyone?” I ask Nick while closing the empty file.

“Yes, that was what we thought too. The fact that they are not able to find out any information on this man is worrying. They’re keeping him in cell five and are soon to take him to the hospital department. We’ve left him in his cell for a few hours to sleep off the shit that he’d taken when they arrested him. The police have taken his prints, pictures, and statements. His statement was short since he didn’t speak a word. We honestly do not even know what languages he speaks. Tonight, we’re short on staff, so this man is your responsibility.”

I now share the distressed look Nick has on his face; it’s only my fourth week here…how can I handle this responsibility?

“He’s mildly injured - hands and arms - covered in a few cuts. They need to be cleaned up. As for the rest, he might have a broken rib. You should check that out, give him painkillers, and stitch him up. You can do this Isabella, if I had anyone else up for it, I would switch you up. But I can’t because we are too understaffed.” I sigh while scratching my forehead.Great start to the night,I think. But as I look around the empty room and at Nick’s stressed expression, I finally reply:

“It’s alright Nick, I got it.”

I’m about to grab my belongings and go to the changing rooms when Nick stops me.

“Isabel, there are a few communication restrictions. You need to follow them,all of them.”

I frown as I turn around to face him again.

“You are not allowed to uncuff him in any way, even if it means that you are not fully able to stitch his cuts. Also, stick to small talk or no talk at all.”

Unknown

Time is ticking, the clock ticks extra slow in hell. Almost 2.30 AM. The once-fresh blood on my hands has dried up by now. My wounds are still open, but the blood surrounding them has become a dry mess. I look down at my hands, and notice how red they are, not only from the blood. The handcuffs are so tight that they’re close to stopping any blood circulation towards my fingers.

My once-white shirt is torn open. It is fucking freezing inside this cell. I can already feel the pain inside my head,vodka. I have been locked up and shackled like an animal for nearly two hours. I’m immobilized, and soon about to go crazy. Do they believe that cuffs will prevent me from breaking loose? As a man of 6’5 with deadly skills they should know better, but they don’t. They do not because they don’t know who I am.

The door finally opens as two guards step in. They approach me while taking out a key to uncuff my feet, just for them to be cuffed together again but with a longer chain. The men jerk me up and push me out of the cell door towards another steel door. We move through four steel doors and one wooden door. Both men, one on each side of me, have a firm grip on my upper arms. As soon as we move through the wooden door I am met with the smell of disinfectants and an ice-cold woosh of air. They push me towards a chair in front of many bandages and such equipment. Before they turn around to leave one of them speaks up:

“Don’t you dare try anything, there are cameras and guards positioned on every corner.”

My gaze meets his as I just stare into his eyes, cold and detached. I don’t bother saying anything. He gives me a dismissive look before leaving through the same door we entered.

The steady beeping of monitors fills the room and the scent of antiseptic hangs in the air. Shoes softly squeaking against the polished floor. Behind the curtain, the sterile white walls and the soft hum of medical equipment leave no doubt that I am in the hospital department of the prison. As my eyes roam around the room I scan multiple cameras, two guards outside the door, an emergency button, one bed, and two chairs. There is no one else in the room, designed for only one prisoner. It’s not much of an upgrade from the cell I was stuck in before. Waiting is not something I am used to, and with every second passing I feel my impatience growing.

Isabella

As soon as I head out of the door, I walk through the hallway towards the changing room. I open my locker and put my bag inside, grabbing the scrubs and changing into them. Hurrying, I close the locker as soon as I’m changed and walk out the door. I make my way towards the few steel doors that you must pass to get to the hospital department. At every door a guard greets me, checking my ID before opening the door. After a few minutes, I get to the final door. The guard checks my ID for the final time before unlocking the door. Honestly, I don’t think I will ever get used to this process. After being checked for what feels like a hundred times, I can finally access the hospital floor. It’s awfully quiet, just three boxes have their lights on. I make my way over and almost feel like returning my morning coffee straight back into the empty cup I am holding.

Standing in front of the door I debate if I should just find a new job, a job that is less stomach cramping. When I finally decide to open the door, I am met with a set of bright green eyes. Our eyes lock as I hear the door falling into the keylock behind me. The eerie feeling I had returns and spreads its way through my blood like poison. And no, I do not want to make my first impression by puking my coffee in this man’s face.

I have no idea for how long we held this eye contact, but with every second, I felt my blood forming into ice. His presence is dark, ominous even, and his gaze is ice cold. This is not a boy, this is a man, and by the looks of it, he is way older than me. I lose track of time as these bright green eyes stare right into my soul.

Maybe it has been ten seconds, maybe it has even been a minute before I finally speak.

“Good morning! Well—almost morning. I’m your nurse.”

My words come out like a mouse, and once again I manage to humiliate myself. His eyes never leave mine as I speak, no answer in return except for his longing stare that freezes me to the bone. I feel the air grow tighter in the room and decide to try and make it a little lighter but stick to the small talk.

“How are you feeling?”

Still no response. He’s clearly not feeling well, nobody would in his situation. I mentally slap myself in the face as I continue to try and fail to start a conversation. As soon as I realize that he isn’t going to answer any of my questions I decide to do my job as fast as I can and get the hell out of here. Nick warned me for a reason, sticking to small talk.

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