Prison

Within twenty-four hours, Emma had been interrogated, been given the worst defensive attorney in the world, and now stood in front of a stern judge with a white scar that ran down his face. He looked more like a thug for hire than an actual, experienced judge.

The judge was not afraid to make his displeasure known to Emma and her defensive attorney that kept shouting 'Objection, my Lord!' as if it was programmed into his system. The judge was old and his wrinkles merely made his ugly scowl more evident.

After Emma had basically been murdered by her lawyer and the prosecutor combined, the judge was ready to give his verdict. But as legal custom required, he still had to ask,

"Miss Emma Taylor. After hearing all these accusations against you, is thee anything you would like to add that might appeal to the court of your insinuated innocence?"

Emma burst into tears. What could she possibly say? Her life was ruined.

The judge gave her some time to speak before giving his verdict.

"… after going through all evidences and hearing from both sides. I proclaim you, Emma Taylor guilty of all charges and are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment, effective immediately."

Emma was thrown in prison that very day. The dole recipient of her five-person room.

"Don't worry. It won't take long before you make friends and get your own roommates as well." The lady jailer said, jeering undisguisedly at her.

Emma walked around the entire room once, testing the beds' softness. They were all at the same level of hard. She picked the one at the corner, by her right and sat down on it, falling into deep thoughts.

For the first time in her life, she realized how dim her future actually was. She had not really had a dream or ambition back when she was free, but at least she had her freedom and rights to do as she pleased. That was gone now.

Was this the end? Was this how her life was going to end? What was going to happen to her now? There was no one that cared about her enough to re-investigate what actually happened. Was she ever going to find justice? She knew the answer to that question.

She was going to die in this godforsaken place.

"Looks like I am the scape goat, uh?" She chuckled, smiling bitterly.

As she looked around her - in the big building filled with small rooms that occupied five persons each, tears rolled down her eyes. She laid on the uncomfortable bed, hugged her knees and wept silently.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

It must have been around one the next day when she was woken up by the baton hitting the door of her prison room. She was not sure how or why she recognized that sound even without looking.

"On your feet, you ugly witch." The jailer ordered. Her voice was as hostile as it could be.

Emma slowly stood to her feet, rubbing her bleary, sleepy eyes in a childish attempt to rub away the sleepiness. Before her eyes could even open properly, she was laid hold of. Three strong and muscular ladies in jailer uniform, held her down on her face.

One of them forced Emma's hands to her back, resulting in a loud, painful cry from Emma. She did not care. Emma was cuffed then lifted to her feet and basically dragged into a room where they tied her down and placed her in heavy chains.

The chains linked from her neck to her wrists and then, her ankles. They were heavy and tight, ensuring there was no room for escape or freedom of movement.

"Where are we going?" Seeing that they were advancing towards a prison-owned van, she could not resist asking.

They, her escorts in uniform, ignored her.

"Where are you guys taking me?" She asked again, trying her best to not look fearful, but her shaky voice betrayed her.

"Just shut the hell up and move." One of them said.

"But…" She tried to protest. She knew it was a bad idea but she had no idea what else she could do. Even then, before she could say a second word, one of the ladies that escorted her interrupted her rather rudely.

"Get in the van."

It was a simple order, but it carried a lot of weight and power. Emma considered resisting.

Wonk!

A baton hit the back of her head.

"Ow!" She screamed unconsciously.

"That was a warning. You're wasting moonlight."

Emma immediately entered the van, struggling a little with the inhumane constraints they had put on her.

The van was out of the prison premises within minutes. Destination known only to the driver and the escorts.

For hours, they were on the road. Emma caught up on her sleep, woke up back and slept again and woke up again. Yet, not once did she catch the escorts' eyes turned away from her or unfocused. These people watched her like eagles.

As the time stretched on and on without end, Emma began to feel like they're not actually humans. She has yet to catch hem blinking as well. She was beginning to feel creeped out. Her hair stood on end. She felt like s cold breeze was blowing at the back of her constrained neck. Her skin began to itch. She became very anxious and suspicious.

Just then, the van slowed to a stop. She got down to realize that she was at a new prison.

"I am being moved to a new prison?"

Things went fast from there. She was registered into the new prison system, took shameful pictures and was given her new prison wears. She was led to her room, which was quite luxurious when compared to the other prison. She quickly noticed that one of the two beds was occupied, so she walked to the empty one and immediately laid on it and promptly fell asleep, refusing to dwell on what-ifs.

She did not wake up until almost dawn. As she woke up, she turned and saw a half-naked man standing above her by the side of her bed.

"Aaaaaaaaaah!!" She screamed.

"Shut the hell up!" He commanded. Emma immediately shut up. "I am your new master."

"What?"

F**k! She realized. 

She had been transported to an asylum.