Prison Camp

Chapter 3 | The Task

I sat on my bed as Alexander sat on my chair, tapping his foot. "So," I said awkwardly. I was not used to talking to people, let alone boys who were alone with me in my room. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just needed to get away from Flamingo," he answered. I smirked at the nickname.

"I thought you liked her."

"Just because she's always following me around doesn't mean I like her," he answered with an eyeroll. I rolled my eyes back at him. He gave a crooked smile. My heart leapt back into a place it wasn't meant to be... referring to my throat of course.

"So," I said again, still as awkwardly. "How long are you going to be here?"

He shrugged in response. I nodded then looked around my room. Could the tension be any thicker? He was not following the mental script and my next line relied on his response. I looked back to him fiddling with something pink. It was my pocket knife thing. My dad gave it to me, it was a knife with a covering shaped like a comb. "Put that down," I said.

"Y'know you're not supposed to have weapons in here right?" he answered, ignoring me. I got up and reached to take it back but he held it above his head. His shirt lifted slightly. He was ripped as f-

Focus Mia. "Give it back."

He chuckled. "Or?"

"I'll stab you," I answered.

"How?"

"I'll break into your dorm."

He raised his eyebrows with a degrading smirk. "I'll be sure to watch my back then," he said, handing my knife back and slowly sitting back down, extremely close to where I was standing, disassociated. Part of him brushed against me, snapping me back into reality. "What's up with your leg?"

"I sprained my ankle," I answered, my voice cracking. He looked amused. I wanted to cut the smug look off his stupid face, it's not my fault I was nervous, if anyone's it was his. I sat back on my bed and he stared at me while I played with the comb. I didn't dare to look back at him for fear of actual eye contact.

Though, with me being me, my curiosity took over and I looked up to see him with his arms crossed, casually leaning back on the seat. I looked back down. One's heart can only handle so much if you know what I mean.

Some time passed and he suddenly stood up. I had a mini heart attack. Courtesy of Alexander. "Bye King," he said, leaving. As soon as he closed the door behind him I relaxed. That half hour was wildly unnerving even though I do it all the time(I haven't spoken to a boy my age for a year before coming to this place).

I sat on the still warm seat, then stood up immediately. Other's butt sweat was not my favorite thing to be on. It was in fact the second thing on my list of things I didn't like sitting on. First was alligators.

I laid on my stomach and sketched out the shelter. After I finished, I pinned it up on the wall. It was then amongst newspaper articles about me, and others about my parents' death. I decided to take a quick power nap that resulted in me missing dinner because I actually slept for eleven hours.

When I woke up again it was 3:00am, ghost hour if you must. My stomach growled. I combed my hair and crept out of my dorm into the pitch black corridors. I gave my eyes time to adjust to my surroundings and almost pissed myself because of a structure in front of me. How lovely.

After walking as quietly as possible and changing my overall opinion on the existence of ghosts and spirits, I reached the cafeteria only to find it locked. This ladies and gentlemen, was my luck. I pulled out the pin I always kept in my hair and bent it awkwardly. After a while of mindless fiddling, because I actually had no idea how to properly pick a lock, it fell to the floor loudly. Could this night be any more distressing?