The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 12

Margot’s POV

After a sharp whistle from the suited man who hadn’t yet spoke a word, the sound of heavy boots striking the floor sliced through the silence…

Dozens of guards began to file into the room in perfect formation, each of them dressed in stark black uniforms, some wearing riot vests with thick gloves and heavy belts loaded with gear. Their faces were blank, unreadable, and all of them carried thick clipboards and sealed folders tucked beneath their arms.

I instinctively sat up straighter, as did every other girl in the room, fearful that we would suddenly be arrested for breathing the wrong way.

The air thickened.

The guards didn’t speak at first – they simply spread out, lining the perimeter like a black wall closing in on us all. on

Their presence shifted the atmosphere from tense to near crippling as I could feel fresh tears prickle at my eyes…

What the hell is happening now?!

Then, almost as if on cue, they just started yelling names one by one…

“Leah Marsten,” one barked from the far right corner, scanning his clipboard. A short girl in a pale yellow tracksuit stood up, visibly trembling at being the first one called out.

She hesitated until the guard motioned sharply for her to move towards him.

“Madison Cove!” came another voice, this one closer to where we sat. A girl with dark braids jumped up, her face unreadable as she complied.

“Erin DuPont, Rachel Lin. Sophie Vale…”

One by one, girls were plucked from the rows of chairs, led out single file through a side door at the far end of the room,

I clenched my hands in my lap, trying to steady the tremble that had taken over my fingers as I awaited my own name.

Cara leaned in slightly beside me, her voice barely a whisper. “They’re just all disappearing through that door, I don’t want to be separated from you yet.” She panics, as I blinked profusely to steady my emotions.

I nodded, throat dry. “Just going out to sign the last contract I guess? The guy said we would be assigned our prisoner and given a brief, this must be it, it’s going to be fine.” I nod along with my own reasoning, reminding myself of what the man had told us would happen next.

“Yeah.” Her eyes flicked toward the last few guards. “Still not hearing our names though, we must not be in the first group thankfully.” She sighed in relief, and I couldn’t blame her.

More names were shouted – faster now, more rhythmic. “Tina Salvo. Jasmine Kerr. Abbie Hope…”

Girls shuffled up. Some with stiff spines and brave expressions, others wide–eyed and terrified. And us? We just sat there clutching one another, the tension clawing at our skin like invisible hands.

After what felt like an eternity, the scarred man stepped forward again.

–

“Those who have not yet been called,” he said, voice rough and unimpressed as we watched on in silence, “just wait in here, you’ll be taken in batches of twenty to sign and have your debrief. Until then Eat. Rest. Talk. Loosen up. You’ll need your wits about you – we will arrive at the prison shortly.” He concludes, before cutting the mic and climbing off from the platform with the two suited men following at his back.

Seconds later, a set of double doors at the side of the hall swung open.

In rolled five long metal carts pushed by more guards, the wheels screeching out an unpleasant sound. The smell of food hit us instantly as my stomach growled at the foreign smells – warm bread, cold meats, something tangy and spicy I couldn’t quite place. It would’ve been completely mouthwatering if I wasn’t so close to throwing up from nerves in the midst of this silence…

The buffet tables were wheeled to the center of the room and arranged quickly. Tray by tray, they revealed sandwiches, wraps, plates of fruit, potato chips, small cold pasta salads in plastic bowls. Water bottles. Juice boxes. Cheap lemonade. You name it!

Girls began to rise. Hesitant at first. Then in small packs began laughing nervously, whispering among themselves when they realised that this was our time to act ‘free‘.

“Are they… excited?” I whispered back, testing if she had witnessed what I had.

“Clearly.” Cara’s jaw clenched. “And they came here together as though it’s a vacation for them. Great. We’re stuck in a prison with influencers.”

I almost laughed. Almost. But my nerves were still shot.

The mint–green girls kept chatting as they piled their plates with triple–decker sandwiches, sugary cupcakes, a mountain of fruit. One of them even snatched a second juice box like she was back in a school cafeteria.

Cara leaned closer. “Do any of these girls even look over thirty to you? Everyone’s so damn young! I thought it would be a mix of ages…”

I glanced around as I grabbed a wrap and some cold pasta. “No you’re right! They all look around our age. Eighteen, maybe early to mid twenties at most.”

Cara nodded slowly. “It’s by design. They wanted girls young enough to be desperate and dumb enough to say yes, and pretty enough to keep the inmates interested – it’s so obvious what they’ve done.”

The words made my stomach churn again, and I set my plate down on the edge of the buffet table, suddenly unsure if I could even stomach any of it.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I murmured.

Cara touched my elbow. “No, you’re not. You’re going to eat, and you’re going to survive this, Margot. Just like we survived everything else – come on, just remember we’ve faced worse than this.” Cara nodded, but her eyes held an uncertainty in them.

I gave her a weak nod. She was right. We didn’t fight tooth and nail to sneak on a bus, risk getting arrested, and escape our lives back home just to fold now.

We need that cash no matter what we have to do to get it…