A dozen cold cement stalls lined a wall with one large drain in the middle of the floor. Each of the three-sided showers was about four feet wide and twelve feet high.
“Strip,” he barked, shoving me into a stall and picking up a hose hooked on the wall.
Emotion cluttered my throat, and I began to shiver.
“I said fucking strip,” he bellowed. “Or I will do it, and believe me, you do not want that. I don’t take kindly to having my time wasted.”
I burned with fury and shame, and my eyes began to twitch as I tried to lift my gown.
“You have two seconds.” He took a threatening step toward me.
Sucking in, I reached behind and untied the gown, the thin fabric sliding off my shoulders. There was a difference between being comfortable with your body and with being naked, and being stripped of humanity—of yourself.
“Undergarments.” He pulled a trash can to the opening, nodding at it. My jaw strained as I clenched it painfully. Struggling to swallow, I pulled my underwear down my legs, trying not to sob, tossing them and the gown into the garbage. My stringy hair fell across my torso, giving me a bit of shelter.
A malicious smile curled up the sides of his face as he watched me undress. He was getting off on this, and it had nothing to do with my naked form but his power to depreciate and dehumanize me. He stepped up to me, a bottle in his hand, and squirted its cold contents over me; his lips turned up like he was pissing on a vile piece of crap. My nostrils burned with the antiseptic smell.
I was nothing more than a flea-infested animal. Humans were less than. Weaker.
“Rub it over all over you and through your hair.” He nodded for me to step deeper into the stall. “Humans need to be thoroughly disinfected of all the little bugs and bacteria.” His hand flicked on a wall switch.
The blast slammed my frame into the cold stone wall as icy water assaulted my skin feeling like a thousand knives, tearing the oxygen from my lungs. My hands went up to guard my face from the brutal onslaught. The pressure was so harsh. My cry drowned in my chest as the stream of water pummeled my flesh. The guard wanted to wash the human disgust off my bones as well. The force shredded my healing wounds, old and fresh blood trailing down my legs with the water.
Whipping around, my hands pressed against the wall, sobs hiccupping up my throat.
Naked. Shamed. Degraded.
“Scrub,” he ordered, moving the attack down my legs and back up to my ass. I rubbed my hands through my hair, but every moment felt like moving through mud. My muscles failed, wanting to crumble to the floor.
“Turn around,” he instructed, the water punching my stomach and moving lower. “Come on; I said wash.”
My throat was thick with humiliation, trying to hold back the flood of sobs shaking my frame, quickly doing what he said.
The water turned off.
“See, you do as you’re told, and things go a lot easier for you.” He hooked the hose back up and motioned for me to follow.
Shivering violently, I wrapped my arms around my breasts, trailing after him, my snarled hair sticking to my back, my raw flesh pricking and throbbing. My wet feet slapped the icy floor as I ducked my chin low, curving into myself.
He took us into another room, which was a large storage room filled with prison uniforms, boots, and wool blankets. Red, gray, blue, and yellow outfits were stacked on the shelves. Unisex, but separated into small, medium, and large.
“Here.” He picked up a set folded on the bench like they had been waiting for me, a pair of worn boots underneath. “Get dressed.”
I picked up dull gray cotton pants, a matching top, socks, a sports bra, and beige granny-sized underwear. Quickly, I put on the items, noticing the number 85221 had been stenciled out on the back of the shirt, the numbers still damp from being recently painted on.
The material was cheap, but so worn it was at least soft. I didn’t want to think how many others had used them before me, who had sweated, bled, and died in this outfit. The only thing on me new was the number on my back. My quaking bones didn’t care; they sought the warmth of being clothed again. The boots were slightly big