It was a normal evening in Ally Jones' house. Her mom was making hot chocolate, her step-dad was choosing a film and Ally was cuddling up on the sofa with the family dog, Sunny.

As her mother, Linda, brought the cups of cocoa in, her step-dad, Mike, stood up, making her mom spill the drinks all down the front of his shirt. Ally resisted giggles as her mom apologised profusely to her husband, but no-one else was in the mood for laughing.

Mike clenched his teeth and yelled at his wife, angry for making him burn. Linda cowered away as he raised his fist, the thing she had become accustomed to shortly after their marriage.

This time, he lowered it and pulled something out of the back of his trousers and Ally screamed for her mom's safety. It was a gun.

For Ally, everything went slower as he pulled the trigger. Her dog's barks seemed more distant, her mom's screams seemed to drone on for ever and it was only when Mike turned to her, a scary glint in his eyes, that she truly worried for her safety.

That was how she ended up on this bus, in the dusty capital of nowhere. Well, Texas, but still it seemed like nowhere. In court, Mike had blamed her for everything and even though her prints weren't on the gun, his lawyer made a pretty god description of how she had forced him to shot her mom. She didn't even get a chance to defend herself before she was whisked on a bus, no clue to where she was headed.

Now before I continue, let me tell you a little bit about Ally. She's approximately 5'2 with nicely tanned Californian skin, medium length gold-brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. She loved music and to sing and read, but her passion was truly dancing. Being so petite, she was quite a skilled dancer, but she could dance as street as the next person if the need was to ever arise.

She was often described as gentle and caring but fiercely loyal and protective to those that deserved it. She wore little reading glasses for small print and had tattoos of a guitar on the inside of her wrist, a daisy chain round her left ankle and small, angel winds on each side of her back, white with red tips.

Her minds were wandering as they pulled up to a prison, past two electric fences, and she was sharply pulled out of her seat by one of the two male guards on the bus. He pushed her ahead and she walked down a couple of steps before jumping gracefully on to the dusty floor.

As her eyes adjusted to the harsh glare from the sun, another man approached, looking her up and down like a piece of meat.

"Well, well, well. Ain't she a pretty little thing?"

The voice was strong and smooth with a heavy accent. The man himself was 5'8, at a guess, reddish-brown hair, slimmer than the others but with a more fierce, dangerous look upon his face.
Back home he would have been exactly her type, but she wasnt back at home, and there was no way she would be accepted if she got with a gaurd.

"I got her from here boys"

He grabbed her arm roughly and pushed her ahead, just like the other guard did. As she walked through the next gates, she noticed male convicts everywhere, playing basketball and lounging about on benches. Her eyes searched for females but only found the convicts that were males but dressed and acted like females. They waved at her. Amusedly, she raised an eyebrow and gave them a small smile.

She was led to the warden's office, where the old man explained that she was the only female in the prison. Great.