The report never made it to the official file; it was shredded before the ink was dry. However, the fact that a junior officer had dared to challenge the status quo caused an immediate stir in the breakroom.
Vance went straight to the Warden, Arthur Miller. Miller was a local legend, and not the good kind. There were dark rumors about his time in the military and how he handled prison riots with “unconventional” methods.
People whispered that under his watch, problematic inmates—and sometimes staff—simply disappeared or had “accidents.” Nothing could ever be proven; he was too smart, too connected, and far too dangerous.
When the Warden heard about Ellie’s report, he didn’t get angry. He just nodded slowly. “She wants to play by the book?” he murmured. “Let’s see how she handles the reality of the job.”
Ellie was summoned to the Warden’s office late that evening. She hoped someone was finally taking her report seriously. But when she stepped inside, she didn’t see a supervisor; she saw a predator.
His eyes were like chips of ice. “You called for me, sir?” she asked, keeping her posture straight, refusing to show her nerves.
“Sit down, Miller.” She sat on the edge of the chair. “So, you’ve decided to be a crusader for justice in my prison?”
“I just reported what I saw, sir. Beating an inmate who isn’t resisting is a violation of protocol and the law.” He slowly rose from his mahogany desk and walked around to stand in front of her.
The tension in the room was suffocating. “Do you have any idea where you are, Eleanor? This is Blackwood Penitentiary. This is a maximum-security environment.”
“I’m aware of where I work, sir.” “No, you aren’t. You’re in a wolf den. Your textbooks don’t apply here. Here, the only things that matter are fear and authority.”
“And you decided to spit in the face of the men who cover your back.” He leaned down, his face inches from hers. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn’t blink.
“You want to know what a real night in prison feels like?” he whispered. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice finally wavering.
He reached for the intercom on his desk. “Open Cell Five in the High-Security wing. Now. And clear the corridor.”
A hesitant voice came over the radio. “Sir? Cell Five is the lifer block. It’s at capacity with high-risk offenders.”
“I know exactly what it is. Put Officer Miller in there for the night. Let her get to know the ‘people’ she’s so worried about. Maybe they can teach her how we really talk to each other in here.”
Before she could protest, two of Vance’s cronies burst in. They grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. She tried to call out, but the hallway was empty.
There was no one to help. The guards, men she had shared coffee with just days ago, looked away. They marched her down to the basement level and opened the heavy steel door to Cell Five.
The air inside was foul—a mix of stale sweat, floor wax, and unwashed bodies. “In you go. Don’t bother screaming; the cameras are ‘malfunctioning’ tonight.”
The door slammed shut with a heavy, final thud. She was alone.
The first thing she heard was a low, raspy chuckle. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a voice boomed from the shadows. As her eyes adjusted to the dim yellow light, she saw them.
Three men. One was a mountain of a man with a jagged scar across his throat. The second was a wiry, bald man with a twitchy sneer. The third was older, with shock-white hair and piercing, intelligent eyes. He sat quietly, watching.
“A lady guard?” the bald one smirked. “And she didn’t even bring her nightstick.” Ellie backed up against the cold stone wall, her fists clenched.
She was terrified, but a cold streak of anger was beginning to override the fear. She wasn’t going to beg. “The first one who touches me is going to regret it,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
The big man, known as ‘Tank,’ took a step forward. “I like it when they have some fight in ’em.” “Back off!” a voice commanded. It was the old man.
He stood up slowly. He didn’t look frail; he looked like seasoned leather. “Leave her alone, Tank. You too, Cueball.” “What’s the matter, Silas? You getting soft?” Tank grumbled.
“I said leave her. Don’t you see what this is? It’s a setup.” Silas looked at Ellie, then back at the others. “The Warden didn’t put her here for us. He put her here so we’d do his dirty work. If we touch her, he has an excuse to sweep us all under the rug. He’s using us.”
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