The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 79

Margot’s POV

The screech of metal against metal echoed through the cell block like a warning shot, followed by the sharp slam of latches releasing.

A split second of silence.

Then-

“Let’s go! Clear out the cells! Now!” The guards were on the move, barking orders as heavy boots pounded the concrete, fists thudding against bars.

This was the most involved that I’d seen any of them be this entire week!

I jumped slightly, even though I’d expected something different today.

Coban turned his head toward the door like he could already see them coming. I watched his jaw twitch as he flexed his fingers once before shoving them into his pockets.

He didn’t like this, I could tell, knowing we would be separated today.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, but it was clear in the way his shoulders tensed and the crease formed between his brows.

As the door to our cell was yanked open, three guards stood waiting, each armed with their usual baton and bad attitude.

“Females to the left line! Males stay in place until further instruction!” one of them called.

I turned to Coban just as the lead guard gestured at me roughly, his hand landing on my shoulder to steer me out.

Before I moved, I offered Coban a small smile a silent message that I was okay, that it would all go fine today,

His nostrils flared, eyes locking with mine, and for a second, I thought he might say something. Do something. But he didn’t. He just gave the smallest nod, like he understood me.

The guards ushered me into line with the other girls filing out of the cells colourful uniforms, but many tired expressions this time around.

It seemed a break from this place was what everyone needed… including myself.

We were herded into the main corridor, the echo of feet moving and shuffling filling the area.

I tried to keep up with the rest, as I faced forward, staying quiet as we merged with the stream of other women moving through the hallway from different blocks.

A few murmured soft greetings, others looked too tired to speak just yet.

I scanned the crowd as we walked, my eyes searching every head, every stride looking for the one person that mattered in here.

Cara.

Where was she?

My gut clenched. She had to be here. Somewhere. I didn’t want to face this day alone…

We moved closer toward the next checkpoint – the double doors that separated us from the exits. But before we could reach them, a guard barked out again, louder this time:

“Strip search, ladies! It’s mandatory! Pick a line, spread out!” A female officer commanded, her tone louder and more frightening than most of the men in this place….

A chorus of groans followed, as each of us shuffled to form lines outside the array of doors.

I let out a sharp sigh, grinding my teeth.

“Not this again,” I muttered through clenched jaws, already peeling off the top half of my uniform with practiced irritation.

I waited outside for Cara to finish up, before seeing her eventually emerge, shaking her head. “I hate them!” She huffs, as I instantly agree.

We hovered around like waiting cattle while the female guards wrapped up the searches – satisfied that none of us were hiding shivs, notes, or scraps of contraband up our asses.

We were quickly guided forward again, herded toward the exit doors – finally.

Stepping outside of the final set of double doors, all of the women were being filtered out on to coaches as I stuck close to Cara, practically hip–to–hip with her, like a kid too afraid of losing their parent at the mall…

I wasn’t in the mood to pretend I was brave anymore. I needed her throughout this entire project if I had any hope of making it to the end!

The sun poured down on us as we stepped up and boarded the nearest bus. We clambered through, finding two seats together, as we sank down on them with a breath.

My senses were already overwhelmed, after days spent in gray walls, the thought of stepping away from this place was both a gift and a shock to the system…

I glanced around at the others, honing in on the laughter and chatter amongst them – their reunions seeming to relight some of their hope for the time being…

Girls were stretching, tugging their sleeves up, loosening ponytails, and smiling like this was recess instead of a day to make reports on our inmates to the hierarchy…

There was something eerie about it. All the joy of having our Saturdays off… it just felt like a mask.

They knew themselves they had thrown us all to the wolves, and Cara and I were amongst the luckier ones. who had a single hope of surviving this place…