1. Chapter 1: The Toupee (1/2)

august 2016

'god i'm bored.'

dahlia hawthorne was prone to saying such things aloud to herself. even though the facility she was a prisoner in has no shortage of activities, she had gone through them all rather quickly, and thus they no longer held any interest to her after two years in this god-forsaken prison.

it would help if there were anyone she could talk to around here, but all the guards had fallen under her spell far too easily. even the chief warden was at her beck and call. the prison cell she occupied was nicer than any house or hotel she had ever seen in her entire life. king-sized bed, a strong internet connection, top-of-the-line computer, plasma tv with all the current channels, you name it. hell, dahlia could walk anywhere in the prison anytime she wished and no guard dared to stop her! at first it gave her deep satisfaction to know she was practically the queen of this place, but now she simply to took it for granted.

there were other prisoners of course, but they were all so dull. the crimes that

ought them here were so unoriginal, had no nuance to them. and not one of them had any desire to escape. did they not care about their freedom? of course dahlia had only one desire left in this world: revenge. against the hag that had trapped her here. she was living a life of luxury, but even so, the fact she had lost to that bitch mia fey haunted her dreams at night. currently she was trying to think of ways of killing fey while maintaining her current lifestyle, when some nuisance down the hall

oke her train of thought:

'let me go, you cretin! i'm innocent, i tell you! that spiky-haired sham of a lawyer has tricked you all!'

'yeah, tell it to judge. oh wait, you did, and he declared you guilty. in here, sahwit.'

dahlia recognised the voice of one the guards, escorting what must've been the latest prisoner to his cell. which just so happened to be across from dahlia's.

'this could be fun.' dahlia murmured.

the guard had just finished locking up the prisoner when he turned to dahlia, 'you need anything, ms. hawthorne?'

'no thank you.' dahlia responded sweetly, forgetting his name. why waste her memory trying to tell these idiot guards apart?'

'all right. if he gives you any trouble, just give us a shout.' and with that, he walked away, leaving dahlia and the new prisoner alone.

dahlia took her time looking him over. shabby, purple suit. obvious toupee shifting on top of his bald head. rather angry look on his face, too. they must've dragged him straight from the guilty verdict to his cell.

'hey, hey! guard! why does this girl get a fancy cell and not me?!' sahwit screamed down the hall.

'u-um, excuse me, sir?' dahlia asked, putting on her most innocent voice, 'it looks like we'll be cellmates, so maybe we should get along.'

sahwit turned to her. obviously entranced by my pure beauty, dahlia thought to herself. that is, until he gave her a knowing grin.

'hah! cute act, little girl, but the name's frank sahwit, and i'm a professional burglar! i know all about the secrets people hide behind innocent facades. well it ain't gonna work on me, sweetheart.'

this man is insufferable, dahlia thought. although it was refreshing to meet someone who wouldn't fall for her charms, this insolence simply could not go unpunished. she he was about to call a guard to beat this frank sahwit, when he said something that shook her world.