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ᶠᵃˡˡᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵖᵒᵛ
"PRISONER THREE-ONE-TWO, FACE THE WALL!" A voice boomed, breaking the dull silence of my cell.
As the doors hissed open, a rush of cold air swept into my cell, prickling my skin with goosebumps. I scrambled off my narrow cot and onto my feet, a tinge of fear knotting my stomach as I instinctively raised my arms and pivoted to face the wall.
"What's happening?" My voice trembled with uncertainty, the words barely audible over the sound of heavy boots approaching. The weight of unseen eyes bore into me, sending a shiver down my spine and causing my heart to race with apprehension.
"Hush. Hold out your right arm." One of the guards' voices commanded, my brows furrowed together in confusion.
"What? Why?" I countered, twisting my head to catch a glimpse of the figure barking orders at me. If they intended to cuff me, wouldn't they demand both arms? And why the need for restraints anyway? My eighteenth birthday wasn't until next week. They couldn't float me, not yet.
"Now's not the time for questions, prisoner. Just do as you're told," the guard's tone hardened, a sense of urgency lacing his words.
"Fine, fine," I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I reluctantly lowered my right arm. In response, a guard seized my forearm with a firm grip, fastening a metallic wristband around my wrist with a sharp click. As the device cinched tightly around my wrist, a sudden pinch shot through me, akin to tiny needles pricking at my veins. I hissed in pain and shot a glare at the guard.
Once the wristband clicked into place, the guards seized me by the forearms, flanking me on either side. The third guard swiped his keycard and the door unlocked with a hiss. They pulled me from my cell, dragging me onto the balcony of the Sky Box. From there, I could see my fellow juvenile delinquents going through the same procedures as I was.
When I looked to my right I saw a blonde girl, whose name was escaping me, having a much more panicked reaction to this widespread detainment. I wracked my brain for a moment, her mother was a member of the council, that I was sure of. But what was her name? Griffin... Abby Griffin... oh! Clarke. That was her name. I think.
But as I glanced to my left, dread washed over me. There he stood, the very last person I wanted to see: my father.
The expression he wore was a mix of disappointment and resignation. A look I was very familiar with.
My eyes narrowed as they locked with his.
When he didn't say anything, I scoffed. No greeting, no explanation, nothing. Typical.
