The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 11

Margot’s POV

The second we had both approached the recognisable room from before, one of the guards stood posted just outside of the doors shoved open the heavy metal to allow us entry, as a sudden wave of intense silence engulfed us both.

It was as though the entire room collectively held its breath.

My stomach twisted as we awkwardly took a couple of steps in to the assembly hall, the oppressive weight of all those new eyes turning to lock onto us the second we had entered.

So this had been where everyone else was hiding….

The air hummed with an odd tension, or maybe it was the large industrial air conditioning fans, making the oxygen thick and heavy and somewhat hard to breathe.

There were rows of cold metal chairs set up in perfect, almost military precision dressed with a sea of rainbow bodies – each having signed up for the same fate we had.

I swallowed the thick lump forming in my mouth, realising that the only empty seats were towards the very front…

And down there, standing atop a small platform, was the man with the scar himself – arms folded firmly across his chest.

A chill ran down my spine. He was flanked by two other men, both dressed in sharp suits, their faces unreadable but intimidating nonetheless. They stood so still, so rigid, as if they were statues in some sick version of a government monument.

We must’ve looked like two deer caught in headlights as we stopped just inside the door, caught in the gaze of the one hundred other women in attendance.

Their stares were unrelenting – some nervous, some curious and others just bored all of them in different variations of the same uniform as us: colorful tracksuits of varying shades.

It felt like I had walked into some twisted pageant where we were the latecomers, the ones who hadn’t gotten the memo on how to behave, how to fall in line.

“Are we late?‘ I whispered under my breath towards Cara, but I could feel her hand brush against mine, her grip tight.

The once fiery confidence that had fueled her on the way here was instantly gone. She was as unnerved as I was, and the raw silence from the crowd made everything ten times worse. Not a sound. Not even a cough. Just a hundred pairs of eyes watching us, waiting for something – anything -to happen.

“Move and go take your seats down the front,” The guard who had let us in here suddenly hissed out from behind, his tone harsh and evidently announcing him as the most impatient in the room.

I instantly snapped out of my daze and forced myself to move forward, tugging Cara in closely behind me.

Our footsteps echoed across the room, each one a reminder that we were very much out of place now, our every movement magnified in the silence.

Why did we have to be the last here?!

As we approached the front, my heart pounded in my chest, becoming too loud in my ears.

The man with the scar’s eyes locked onto us. I tried not to let his gaze unsettle me, but it felt like he could see right through me, right through everything I was trying to hide.

“Just in the nick of time, you two,” he said, his voice a low growl as he nodded towards the large wall clock. “I hope you won’t be causing us any issues throughout this project.”

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as the others beside him sniggered.

His words were casual, but the underlying threat was unmistakable. I could feel Cara’s fingers tighten around mine, her hand clammy and nervous.

We were going in to this totally blind – zero prep or training!

These men could end us by morning!

This was a sheer gamble to see whether or not the prisoners would let us survive in their world with the hope of gaining their freedom in return!

This project was all about giving these dangerous men TRUST to keep us safe and alive in THEIR domain?!

In simple terms, we were being sent straight in to a cell to live with a random dude who’s done unspeakable crimes…

The man with the scar gave us one last, lingering look before he stepped in to address us all once more. “We will have each of you sign the final contracts now, before briefing you on the inmate you have been assigned to one by one – equipping you with skills on how to navigate their moods and behaviour. After this, we trust that you’ll make the best of your circumstances.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a knot in my throat as some of the girls in the room whispered in what seemed to be excitement?!

Were some of them actually keen to become a prisoners fucking roommate?!

What the fuck are we doing here… this was all wrong!