I sit in the back of the holding cell. Nobody is paying attention to me, as the newbie of the group. They're all being very rough with each other, I just try to avert my eyes and not pay attention.

I hear a fight break out, as I try to ignore it entirely. Eventually the fight gets loud and near enough that I figure it's probably safer to watch so I can move if it gets too close to me.

Both men fighting are bruised and bloody. One looks much worse than the other, the other having a pen he shaped into a makeshift knife. The worse looking one has several stab wounds.

I flinch pulling myself into a ball, trying to make sure there's enough room around me to move if either one of them gets too close.

The one that was stabbed passes out, the other doesn't even stop punching him or anything. I accidentally stare at him in complete and utter fear.

I guess I stared too long, because once the guy realized the other one was passed out, he began to look for his next fight, and apparently, that just so happened to be me.

"What are you looking at, bitch?"

"Uh, nothing, I-I just..."

"You just?"

I look away, trying to find words to speak. I end up just babbling out some random something that really didn't make sense.

"What was that? You pathetic piece of shit."

"I just, I..."

He picked me up by my shirt as fear welled up into my eyes. "Spit it out, stick man." He spit in my face as he spoke these words.

I flinch a little, trying to put my arms between me and this big strong man who just stabbed someone.

As I try to avoid the question, not really sure how to answer, he punches me in the face.

He's strong, and draws blood when he punches.

I try to wiggle out of this man's grip. It hurts, but doesn't work. He punches me again, this time in the stomach.

I cough up blood as I push on a pressure point I know is on his shoulder, still trying to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs his pen and puts it up to my throat, "Stop wiggling, it'll be much easier."

I don't know if he means easier for me, or for him. I panic, beginning to fight back, punching him in every spot I can think of to get him to let me go, and continuing to wiggle as much as I can.

The big man stabs my leg. I wince in pain, continueing to wiggle.

It takes a solid 30 minutes for the police in this facillity to realize this was going on.

As soon as they do, there are five officers in the room taking me off of the man, holding me as if I'm going to attack him more.

The way they're holding me hurts more, but I figure they know what they're doing, so I don't fight it.

I feel my vision go blurry as they begin to take me to what I presume would be the medical area.

When I wake up I'm in solitary confinement.

I LIED MOTHER FUCKERS. THERE IS AN UPDATE THIS WEEK, IT'S JUST LATE, WRITTEN ON MY PHONE, AND ANGST BITCHES!!

But seriously, let me know if you find spelling errors, I can't see them on my phone.