I didn't do it. I didn't kill the president, I swear. It wasn't me, I thought to myself as I rocked back and forth on my cot, my arms wrapped around my knees. My breathing was labored and I was shaking from head to toe.

I was as skinny as a stick and even though it was the middle of July and all the lackeys in jail were sweating their sins away, I was there shivering as cold as Alaska in the winter. To give comparison, I was in North Dakota, so July was peaking at 114 degrees Fahrenheit. And I was stuck in jail where I didn't belong with terrible people that did belong. All because I didn't kill the president.

"Come on, Stick," said Dallas Jenkins, one of the few in the prison who actually cared about me Caring might be a strong word. He was part of an inner jail gang and because I was suspected of killing the president, which I didn't do, he wanted me a part of his gang and he's been trying to get me to join for the last seven months. He thought that it was just a really awesome liar who doesn't want to be a part of that gang and he only got one of those things right. "You have to eat something or you're gonna die." 

Probably true. I only eat the bare minimum every couple of days or weeks. Whatever I can get away with.

Dallas put his hand on my back and shoved me off the cot. I stumbled and caught myself before turning to him. "I don't want to eat, Jenkins. I should just die."

"Well, we can't have that We need you to eat the sous of our enemies so that starts with you eating a little bit of prison slop." Jenkins hung his muscled arm across my shoulders and I nearly crumpled from the weight of it. He wasn't much taller than me, and I wasn't very tall in the first place. He had darker skin and black spiky hair (where'd he get the gel?). His parents were both Mexican but he was born in (can you guess?) Dallas, Texas. 

I conceded and he walked me outside where the sun was burning Bright and people sat in the shade, talking about shady things, I'm sure.

"Stick! You're alive!" Marvin said, grinning from ear to ear. If there was anyone in this prison that didn't belong, other than me, it was him. He was so nice. He was like a big fluffy teddy bear. He was big and tall, about 6'5". He had a buzz cut when I first got there but now had thick, light brown hair that had grown about an inch off his scalp.

"Barely," I replied, my legs shaking from not using them for weeks.

"That's no way to think. Let's get you some food. You need it most, you being the President Killer and all." He gave me a wink but turned around before I could tell him that I DID NOT KILL THE PRESIDENT.

I stood in line with Jenkins and Marvin and I was served a cup of slop. I wanted to throw up right then and there. It was gray and brown with chucks and it was room temperature.

Before I could move on in the line, the person serving me lunch exclaimed, "Stick! You're here! I haven''t seen you in weeks."

"Yeah," I answered non-commitedly. Okay, Stick is not my name but they called me that because of how thin I was. And I didn't care to correct them.

"Wow, talk much?" I turned to the new voice.

My eyes were blurry for some reason and not to mention how Bright it was. I had to squint so much that my eyes were nearly shit. And yet, I still had no idea who said that.

"Oh, right, sorry." he said, and I realized he had a British or Australian accent, and call me uncultured, but I didn't know the difference.

A form that was three times the size of me in every direction stepped out of the shadows. He had black hair that was swept over his eyes and tattoos reaching from his left ear to his hands, at least from what I could tell but he may have had more. And somehow he looked more than half decent in the orange jumper. I couldn't help one raised eyebrow but I immediately schooled my features again.

He gave an eccentric bow. "Hello, Mister President Killer, sir. Name's Seven, nice to meet you."

"Where's three and four?" I deadpanned.

He stared me dead in the eye. "Well, you can't add one to two and have one, two and three."

I sighed and turned back to the food line and was served some goopy string beans. "Leave while you still can, Seven. There are only maniacs here." I felt Jenkins go stiff next to me. I sorta forgot how often the prosecutor called him a maniac. He wasn't so bad. I could change him.

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Jenkins relaxed and led me to a tree that smelled so bad of urine, I was sure that every guy had marked it as his territory. I sat as far away from it as I could, which wasn't far since Marvin wouldn't let me go more than five feet away from him.

"So, what should I know about the prison life, guys? This is the first time I've been caught." Seven sat down next to me, spreading his long legs out and looking at his nails.

I glanced at him and rolled my eyes. He didn't need to say that. It would've been better if he didn't actually. 

Jenkins stuffed some green beans in his mouth with his bare, dirty hands. "Well," he said, his mouth full and voice sounding disgusting. He swallowed. "We have an inner gang in the workings but we only need one other person to join." He nodded his head at me and I put on a scowl. "So that's still in the workings. Don't go over to those Tats over there." He eyed Seven. "Actually, you might fit right in."

"Lemme guess. Tats means Tattoos?" Seven said dryly.

Jenkins nodded. "Basically. They're an odd folk. Especially Bo, He's weird and a creep, Anyways, stay away from them and the Bananas." He nodded his head at another group who were all wearing bandannas.

Seven cocked an eyebrow. "Bananas?"

"Dah. They're really the Bandannas or the Bands or something like that, but they're so lame we just call 'em the Bananas. They hate it. There's only two real gangs in the prison and that's ours and the Bangs."

"And what's our name?" Seven asked. I shot 'him a look. He wasn't even asked to join, I looked down at my plate of food after her gave me a smug look and I forced myself to take a bite of stew. Okay, I don't know if my tastebuds were just broken or if it actually wasn't that bad. It still wasn't good but I'd tasted worst.

"We call ourselves the Lost. Well actually, they called us the Lost 'cause we had that one insane dude but now we just kept it 'cause it sounds cool."

"Like the Lost boys" Then we all shot him a look. He raised his hands in defense. "Sorry, sorry. Meant no disrespect" I shook my head and groaned on the inside.

"What brings you here, Seven? What'd you do to end up in jail?" Marvin asked suspiciously I looked at him expectantly as I stuffed more food in my mouth,

"Oh, well, I, erm, robbed a bank." Marvin, Jenkins and I all sighed and stood up. Even I knew that that wasn't enough to join the gang. I grabbed my tray still half full of food and moved with Marvin and Jenkins further into the courtyard.

"What? What'd I do wrong?" Seven sped towards us and grabbed onto my shoulder and spun me around, making me stumble to the ground. I set my tray down and stood up.

"don't touch me," I said, my voice going an octave lower. 

"Sorry, Stick. Meant no disrespect," he said, not sounding sorry enough.

"Don't call me stick either, Seven," I spat.

"And why not? You have no meat on those bones, you're weak. What could you do to me if I did call you Stick?" He folded his arms and his eyes narrowed. A thick silence hung over everyone in the courtyard where watchful eyes on Seven and I. A guard at the far fence put his hand on his taser gun but didn't make any other movement.

"U think you forget who you're messing with." I poked him in the chest and he growled like an animal. He stood at least half a foot taller than me and it was obvious he had more muscle, but I didn't care. I could do one of two things.

"Who am I messing with, then? Everyone says you killed the president, but all I see is some weakling ho barely lasted a week in prison without the help of two idiots. I dunno how you lasted this long but it sure wasn't 'cause you were strong enough. What, are these inmates your babysitters or something?"

I chuckled darkly. "Do you want a show of just how strong I can be? First of all, have you ever gone a week without food, only drinking water if some idiot leaves it out?"

"No, because I wasn't weak enough to go without food."

My hand turned into a fist. "Fine then. Let me demonstrate to you just how weak I can be."

The next second, my first cracked into his jaw so fast that a lot of the inmates missed it. Seven's head whipped to the side and came back. His jaw was read already but I didn't know how much damage there was yet. His eyes were basically red with anger as he drew his hand back and slapped me across the face,, I didn't give him a second to see what damage he did but it sure hurt like there was no tomorrow.

I threw my body at him, hitting him in the chest and making him fall to the ground. I hit him in the face a few times before he could finally get his bearings and he got on top of me, his hands around my throat. I could hear a commotion other than us but I had no idea what was happening except for the life being strangled out of me. I was struggling to breathe but I reached into the collar of my jumpsuit and pulled something out.

It was a sharpened stone. Sitting in the dorm for so long gave me a chance to fashion a good looking and sharp knife. I brought it to his hand before he realized what was happening and stabbed it into the side of his left hand and pushed it through until it reached his mid forearm.

Seven screamed and let go of me, blood dripping from his cut into my mouth as I tried to get enough air in my lungs. Someone grabbed him off me and before anyone could help me up, I hopped to my own two feet and strode toward Seven who was being held back by a security guard. His face had a few bruises but most of them would only last up to two days.

I stuck my bloody finger in his face and said, "I told you not to mess with me, Seven. Next time, you better listen 'cause next time I won't be so nice."

He spat in my face, the saliva pink. The officer had one arm around his neck, not strong enough to choke but enough to keep Seven there. The other arm was holding back Seven's arms.

Another officer put me in the same hold and lead me away from the courtyard. Marvin and Jenkins were frozen in their tracks, neither knowing which thing to look at; the surprising attacker or the surprising victim. The rest of the inmates gawked at both of us, too. I got my hand out of the offices hold without him realizing and salted to every one in the courtyard, then I let my lips show a smirk. Oh how nice it was.