Behind the Scenes: Behind the Bars

Framed. I was framed. By my stupid partner-in-crime; my own brother. Would you believe it? Trying to help him cover up his biggest secret, and then receiving the bad end of it. He gets a trial, and blames ME. Do you have any idea WHY IN THE STUPID WORLD someone would do that that? Let me tell you exactly why.

Picture this: a dark hallway, a box, and a lighter in front of a door. The door belongs to my brother's worst enemy, who just happened to be the most popular guy in our college a few years back. Now, imagine your brother counting down, you are hiding behind a wall, and then there is a giant explosion. You run to your brother who has fallen, and see that he is just fine. The door isn't.

Your brother decided to knock and make sure the guy came to the door, before he blew him to bits. Now, there are security alarms going off, and you make a run for it with your brother. When you get outside, there are police cars and police men, all pointing their guns at you.

"It was her, officers! I saw her blow my friend Jacob's door to bits, with him alongside it. I called you guys, so that you could nab her," your brother tells the cops, pure terror and shock on your face. As the fuzz cuffs you and shoves you into the squad car, your brother waves goodbye to you, with a look on his face that just screams "Gotcha".

Now, here I am. Sentenced to prison for six years for false murder, though no one believed me. I'm stuck here in this cell, practically wasting away. The bed is full of broken springs and holes, the itchy fabric of the single blanket and pillow making me scratch constantly, the sound of the faucet dripping from poor plumbing. And don't even get me started on the food here. Mushy, brown gruel, served three times daily.

The guards here know to leave me alone, because even though I never talk, I can make myself seem.... well, dangerous. I can give a death glare colder than the North Pole, and I can make my voice sound so deep, people run when they here it. The last thing anyone wants to do here, is get me upset. One guy underestimated me on the first day here, and he ended up with a black eye and a broken arm.

I got called up to the visitation center, with a few other inmates, and we waited patiently for our names to be called. My ma had come and talked to me once, trying to figure out why I would murder someone.

"Ma, I would never. You know that. I've always been a good person. Levi framed me," I told her, my voice pleading for mercy. My ma then rolled her eyes and rubbed the crease on her forehead, thus showing that she was getting more and more annoyed.

"Bridgette, I should believe you, but I can't. All the information given was solid, and your brother did indeed call the police and tell them you were planning something. Just tell me why you would do something like that, and I'll make sure to get you out of here," she said, further prompting me to an even worse degree of anger.

"BUT I DIDN'T. No one in this BLOODY TOWN believes me! I wasn't the one who was made fun of, or bullied by Jacob. I didn't come home with a bloody mouth and black eyes! WHY ON EARTH would I have any reason to kill him?" I asked her, screaming with the fury of a thousand people in my voice.

Ma just shook her head, gathered her things, and left. My Pa never came around either, but he had left a long time ago. The only other person who came was Levi, and I really didn't want to see him.

"Hey, B.B., how they treatin' 'ya?" he asked, as if nothing had happened. I just sat there, my mouth open wide, and he said something even more surprising. "So, you want me to bail you out?"

"Bail me out? How on earth would you be able to do that? This place is almost as guarded as Alcatraz, and it's even harder to escape from," I told him, my eyes fuming and curious at the same time. Levi chuckled under his breath, and mumbled something I couldn't understand.

"Remember that pact we made before we destroyed Jacob? The Ego Protegam?" he said, barely above a whisper. There was about three other people in there with us, not including the weeping family members or the ones just shaking their heads. I nodded, my mind suddenly full of thought.

Ego Protegam is Latin for "I will protect", and we had a very particular reason for this pact. If the fuzz came and locked one of us up, the other would find a way to help the inmate escape. Quite simple, really. Because Levi called on the pact, he now HAS to help me escape, or I get to punish him when my term is over. Only five more years.

That same day, after they took Levi out and me back in, I had to go outside for "recreational rehabilitation", or recess. I stood in my usual spot, and everyone stayed away from me, as I liked. My spot had the most shade, the nicest chair that was outside, and a clear view of the fence and the life I was missing.

Kids running around, parents taking care of babies, and the boy of my dreams. I turn 23 in two weeks, and I was supposed to get married in three. Mark Sinclair: tall, dark, handsome, and the nicest boy you could ever know. He had a bad rep because of his older brother, but I could tell that he was all good. Well, maybe not all good I only mean that we both did some pranks at various moments, and that we had our fair share of trouble at home.

I watched the clock tick to 3:30pm, and headed inside. Instead of the normal speed-walk I do, I stood near the back so that I could see Mark before I had to go, with a chance that I wouldn't see him again for the next five years. I was escorted back to my cell, and watched as the guard clicked the lock, then strutted away.

I grazed over to my small window, realizing that I had an amazing view of the city. I could see my house, the park right behind our neighborhood, even our old school. And right behind it, Jacob's old apartment with a message painted onto it.

The message read, "Meet at the visiting section, normal time. Wait for the keys to jingle three times, then cover your ears.'' At first, I had no idea what the message meant. But then, I realized. Levi was about to come bust me out tomorrow, and I needed to be ready. Well, here I go, ready for another explosion. Hopefully, this time, a good one.