Prisoner

I took a glimpse into the deep, deep dark.
My fate was probably decided then.

"You've got it wrong. It wasn't me...! Please! Look again! It wasn't me!"
I repeated it over and over.
In the cold holding cell I shouted those same old desperate lines.
The same lines every criminal had ever spouted.

I was a believer in justice and order.
Until now I'd been the guy who puts bad men behind bars. Killers and such.
Right now, moment by moment, my whole worldview was changing.
"Get out."
The guard spoke in short blunt syllables. He pushed me toward the gate.
I couldn't. Alarms were going off in my head. I wanted to scream.
I couldn't be on the other side of that wall.
"Get in."
The guard prodded me. Ahead of my cold dark path a deep voice said,
"Welcome to Sinclair Prisonl your new home. This place has history."
I raised my head to meet a chilling face and burning eyes.
"Nothing but time. First, you gotta be checked, B1025."
Behind me came, with finality, the sound of the heavy door closing.

5 color images (11 total incl. variations) from CLUB-Z.