You were a troubled teen with a semi-boyish look, and everyone would mistake you as a boy, most the time…even the judges and jury when they sent you to Wilkinson Home for Boys. Your parents didn’t correct them, which was surprising. But, maybe, just maybe, they thought you deserved that punishment for what you had done.

The guard walked you down the hall. He gave you the creeps…he just didn’t seem normal. He stopped in front of a door, unlocking it with a pair of keys. He grabbed you by the hair and tossed you inside.

When he did you realized you weren’t alone in the room. There was a boy sitting on the bed in the corner of the room, watching you when you hit the ground. He looked about 14. He didn’t say anything though, but his face looked a little worried. Like he knew what would be in store for you.

The guard shut the door and watched through the barred window that was only about a foot and a half big, smirking in an almost predatory way.

“Take off your clothes,” The guard mutters, watching you with a demented glint in his eyes. The boy in the corner kept silent.