There were basically two ways to go to jail: it was you. Or you were just unlucky.

Most inmates would advocate the second option, probably 95% of the time. When David Hamsfield saw the concrete walls decorated with steel for the first time, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He had seen a lot in his life, but knowing for the first time that you can't escape a place was off-putting.

The two tall, very intimidating men next to him accompanied David to his body search. Then they took everything that belonged to him. And in return handed him a grey fashion symbol, which everyone wore here. When he took off his wedding ring and threw it into a plastic bag, he had to stare at it for a few seconds. It felt strange to see it. It was even stranger, however, when the plastic bag disappeared into a locker, as if it would never come out again.

The official who asked him to undress in the cold room was very kind to David's surprise. He smiled here and there even when David made a dry remark about the utensils on the sterile table. The relaxed atmosphere, however, suddenly tensed as the officer examined his anus. And took an enormous amount of time to do so.

Dressed in grey pants and a grey shirt, he was given some other things that he could use for personal use. When he was standing at the counter with the thick plexiglass pane, he got in contact with other inmates for the first time. They just came from a shift, so David assumed, because they wore dirty overalls. They laughed and generally seemed to be having a lot of fun. But just when David looked at them, they whistled after him and indicated very clearly that he should blow them. With loud laughter, they disappeared behind a large metal door.

David could only smile wearily. He was looking forward to the first experience in the shower.

He could still half-heartedly joke about it, but the laughter passed quickly as another officer escorted him to his cell. The road was taking longer than expected, so there was an uncomfortable silence as they walked through the grey corridors.

The man used the time to instruct David again. But that was done much more half-heartedly than before, when he was told the bare essentials upon arrival.

“No sharp objects such as razors or knives. Cutlery is made of plastic, you can only shave with electric razors. There are haircuts at the hairdresser,” mumbled the slightly older man as he walked a little behind David. He carried his spare clothes and other items around like a tray. He drove the corridors with his eyes as best he could. There were several cell blocks and medical rooms. Most of the doors were locked. You only got ahead with transponders. Should a transponder get lost, you could quickly deactivate it. So there was no point in stealing such a thing. David had to look for another way to open the doors.

"There's fights, there's trouble," the gentleman said, trying to ignore the other inmates' malicious comments. „Insults or even violent acts against employees are punished with sanctions. Either social work or more years, depending on the severity. „

David smiled but said nothing.

“You got a lifetime anyway, right? Well, stay good nonetheless. Maybe they'll let you out at some point because of good behaviour.”

David said nothing again, but looked around further. They reached a relatively new building complex. The walls were still painted in a consistent grey and not like the others with some patchwork.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached David's cell. A thick door with a small window in the upper third. Protected by bars. Again, only a transponder opened the door.

“There are times when everyone can move freely. At all other times the inmates stay in their cells. Outbreak is sanctioned with fines here too ... you know.”

David nodded well, still holding his clothes in front of him, and stopped in the hallway next to the officer while he opened the door. There was a big tattooed man in the cell. Very bulky with wild hair. When he saw David, he grinned mischievously, showing his many gold teeth.

It had been a miracle that no one had knocked them out yet.

"Oh la la! What have we got there?” the burly man greeted David and leaned against the open door. The officer seemed to be very calm, even when the cellmate stuck his head out of the room. "Are you giving me something new to nibble, Jerry?"

"No," Jerry snorted, waving the transponder into the cell. “This is Tucker Dawson, sitting for drug trafficking. Keep your hands off him. Gay stuff is also sanctioned.”

Then Tucker winked at David maliciously. “You can do anything. Just don't let yourself get caught.”

"Thank you," David began to speak in a calm voice, even if he wasn't calm. "But I'm not gay."

Tucker laughed and bit his lip. "Challenge accepted!"

The officer finally returned David to the cell and closed the door. It took a moment for Tucker to move from his side and make room for him.

The cell was small, but not too small. A classic bunk bed, of course, but it looked okay. Tucker had apparently occupied the lower bed. David would take the top half.  He put his things on the already made bed. When he discovered a small television and a structurally separate toilet with a sink that could have been in a simple apartment, he turned to Tucker in disbelief.

"A really nice room for a prison," he said in surprise, blinking in the direction of his cellmate.

That only earned him a loud laugh. “Oh, don't get used to it too early, bub. It is not as beautiful as it seems. Although," and then he dropped onto one of the two chairs that stood at a small table, "It's kind of nice here. It's worse in the other blocks.”

That made David prick up his ears. "What’s the situation there?"

Tucker scratched his broad upper arm as if that would help him think. “Well, rumours say at least one guy dies every week and shit like that. The really bad candidates are sitting there. Murderer and such. Serial killers. All that stuff.”

David raised his eyebrows. "And here? Who is sitting here? Just drug dealers?”

"Hey, hey," Tucker snorted, kicking the table aggressively. "Don't make it sound like we're the little criminals here!"

David said nothing but kept staring at his neighbour. He was interested in the answer to his question.

Tucker crossed his arms. Anyway, he tried. With his muscles it looked difficult to bend his arms at all. “Mainly drug dealers. Violent criminals. A couple of sex offenders. Something like that.”

David nodded. "Then I should be happy to be here."

"How so? What brought you in here?” Tucker suddenly asked very happily and leaned forward to David, who was still standing a little uncomfortable in the middle of the room.

"My ex-wife."

"Oh!" Tucker whistled, raising his eyebrows as if he knew immediately what was going on. „Those women, really bad! Thankfully, mine didn't rat on me, I was just unlucky with the cops. „

"Yes, the women," repeated David monotonously, reaching for his toothbrush. He slowly unpacked it to put it on the sink. “Tucker is a very interesting name. I've never heard of it before.”

As he stood in the small bathroom, David could almost hear Tucker grinning. “Do you know the car? From the Tucker Corporation? My dad was a big fan! Named me after it. My ma didn't have much say in that.”

"Interesting." It wasn't. But David didn't want to talk about their offenses. And while Tucker seemed tall and dangerous looking, he wasn't actually. He even showed David the pictures of his two children just before dinner. An uninteresting case, David thought. And so he focused on the other inmates.

The canteen was yet another world. It was huge. There was seating everywhere, at one end a large buffet, where you could more or less decide what you wanted to eat. The classic throw on the tray still existed. It was probably better to clean. And you couldn't kill someone with a plastic tray. Anyway, David still believed that.

When his eyes went down the upper floors, he spotted more than 20 snipers.

"Has there been a shootout before?" David asked in a low voice to his colleague, who didn't move from his side. Tucker, who was almost a good head taller than David, leaned down a little.

“More often than you think. But mostly only when block C has meal time. We are safe so far. There may be a scrap here and there, but nothing more.”

David's interest was piqued again. "So do I have to be careful of certain people?"

"Haha," Tucker laughed, and put an arm around David. The gesture was a little uncomfortable, especially because Tucker smelled of sweat, but David said nothing. “You should be careful of everyone here, Bub. If they don't want your little sweet ass, they want your charming throat. So stay with me. I am nice."

David was sure it was probably a good idea to stay close to Tucker. He noticed a group of men watching them closely when they were at the food distribution. They looked like trouble from afar.

When they were sitting at a community table and Tucker cheerfully told him about his drugs, which he had all thrown in back in the old days, the group came closer. David had been waiting for the confrontation to happen and searched for the staff on their floor who could have helped him if necessary.

"Hey, a newbie," David was barked at by a Latin American guy. Also tattooed up to his neck like all the other guys, he immediately sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Even a redhead. I'm into redheads.” His friends laughed maliciously. There was a total of five men. One uglier than the other. But apparently everyone from the tribe 'we're sexy and we know that'.

"Can I help you?" David asked politely, trying to smile. Suddenly Tucker fell silent and watched the scene like a deer looking into a car’s headlights on the street.

The Latino licked his lips and looked at David's freshly shaved cheeks. "Maybe," he hummed, stroking the back of his index finger over David's face. “Say, why are you here? I'm curious."

"I don't think that's important," David said decisively, eluding the uncomfortable touch.

"Oh boy," the charmer laughed, looking around his group of followers. “This one has a bite. I like that."

Before David could laugh, he was grabbed by the collar. Hot cigarette breath rose in his nose as the groomed Latino whispered in his ear. “Me and my gang are in charge here in block A. Be good. Follow the rules. And you can serve your time without losing a finger or a toe. How does that sound, huh?”

David tried to turn his head to the man without giving him a smack. Almost nose to nose, he managed to look Latino boy in the eye. In the background he saw some guards with their hands on their clubs. Ready to intervene if the situation turns into a fight.

"Thank you very much," David said, smiling almost sincerely into the man's oddly shaped face. "But I'm not gay."

Then, of course, the first fist flew. It hit David in the lower stomach area, causing him to bend forward. Tucker certainly meant well when he jumped up and tried to grab the Latino boy. But then the guards stepped in and grabbed one after the other. Sitting and standing inmates suddenly began to whistle and scream as if a cockfight had started. Before a serious fight could actually take place, the group of men was removed. Unfortunately, David and Tucker too. Without having eaten anything, they had to go back to their cell.

"Sorry you couldn't eat either," David murmured and watched Tucker light a cigarette by the grille window.

"It's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Antonio can be annoying. He thinks he is somehow a big number with his laughable 1.70m. It's just ridiculous.”

"You suddenly became very quiet earlier for that he shouldn't be a big number." David sat down at the small table and watched Tucker's facial expressions. Indeed, his face twisted a little.

“He is known for getting carried away. So stay away from him, especially if you are on your own. Don't go showering alone and all that.”

That made David smile. "Is that now friendly care or a not so unselfish offer?"

Luckily, Tucker took the comment as a joke and grinned while blowing the cigarette smoke out of the window. It still smelled all over the room. "Both. But seriously: the guy doesn't do things by halves. If he wants to put his thing in you, he'll do it.”

"Already experienced?"

Tucker shook his head. Relief spread across his face. “No, I'm not his type. But my previous roommate. They caught him.”

"What happened to him?"

"He's in block B now. He volunteered to go there."

“Who is sitting there? The murderers?"

“Yes, in part. But even so people who don't learn their lesson. You know? They came out and basically killed or sexually abused someone in the first minute they breathed fresh air. Hard to understand.”

"Why would someone go there on their own will?" David asked, raising his eyebrows.

But Tucker just shrugged his shoulders and flicked his cigarette butt out of the window, even though there was an ashtray on the windowsill. "No idea. You shouldn’t care about logic here.”

Tucker was probably right. The evidence of lacking logic was already coming at night: David heard loud groans through the corridors. For the fact that homosexual behaviour was not tolerated ... very little was done to prevent it. In any case, his roommate was sound asleep, so that David didn't have to worry about sexual advances, at least for the first night.