Brawl For Defense ✔

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

I stared boringly at the woman that was currently staring at me from across the hall. I figured she had been locked up for at least ten years, judging by her looks.

Her facial features were sharp, almost masculine, while her shoulders were broad. She had about three scars on her face, the largest one running from her temple down to her jawline. Her body was covered in tattoos, ink running down her neck and big arms. For a normal person, she would've looked scary.

To me? She was just plain ugly and big.

You could easily tell she was the one who called the shots in the entire place. The typical criminal in charge you found in prison, beating the crap out of anyone who even dared to look at them. The cliché ruler who everyone must fear and not get in their way of if they didn't want to get squeezed like lemonade juice.

It was quite hilarious, actually. I could only see her as what she really was.

Ugly and big.

I was casually sitting on the filthy, rock-hard bed while leaning my back against the wall. It had been only three days since I was put inside this cell. It was boring, to say the least.

The entire place reeked of dead animals and dirt, which certainly weren't pleasant to the respiratory system. The toilet and sink on one corner of the cell wasn't exactly the most hygienic place. You could say I was almost afraid of a snake biting my bum while I was doing my business in that toilet. If only we could keep it all in.

My lips tugged downward in a frown as I noticed that the weirdo across from me was still staring openly at me. I was starting to ponder what was creepier: a wrinkly old man, or a manly lesbian.

"Would you like me to ask a guard to bring you a pencil and some paper for you to draw a picture of me and hang it on your wall?" I asked sarcastically while raising an eyebrow.

"Word says you're the little scum who took down an entire gang and handed them to the CIA on a silver platter," her deep voice spoke, ignoring my question. "How could a shrimp like you manage to do that?"

Shrimp?

"Well, first of all, Ronda Rousey, just because you're taller than me doesn't mean I'm a shrimp," I said with an eye roll. "Second of all, I can only say that I am plain genius."

The other woman smirked, running a hand through her quiff-styled, jet-black hair. I stood up from the bed and stood in front of the cell door, leaning my elbows lazily through the openings. The green uniform they made me wear was pretty uncomfortable and itchy in some places, even though it was kind of baggy. I couldn't say the same for her, though.

"That wouldn't be so hard to believe if I weren't the type of person that judged people by their looks," she said with a mindless shrug. "Yet again, I can easily tell that you've got a heavy backbone. Normally, the new ones wouldn't talk back to me like that."

"Just because I want to get out of here fast doesn't mean I'm going to let myself be swiped across the floor like some dirty rag." I scoffed. "I won't fall victim to anyone's taunts. That includes you, Mama Boss."

"I like you already." She laughed. "I'm pretty sure you will make my days even more interesting with that attitude of yours."

"Well, hold on tight, because I'm not a damn circus for your entertainment," I said, making her smirk. She then leaned forward against the bars, amusement filling her blue eyes as she stared at me mischievously. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering about what she was about to do or say.

Suddenly, her tongue flicked out and licked the cell bar while throwing me a wink. I couldn't hide the grimace and the disgust from my features as she took in my expression and doubled over, laughing. It seemed that apart from being ugly and big, she was also gross. Great.