“Name?”

            The voice belonged to a burly woman who sat behind a white plastic table. Her name tag said Melinda, but I heard someone address her as Molly when I was further back in the line. Frizzy, heat-damaged curls framed her thick face. Her freckles intermingled with sun spots as they both stippled across the bridge of her nose from one cheek to the other. The fabric of her white button-up blouse puckered up in front of her ample s and I could tell that with each movement she made, in the back of her mind she was willing the shirt not to rip.

            “J-Jeon Jungkook.”

            “Age?”

            “S-Seven…” My voice caught in my throat. I tried to clear it with a cough. “Seventeen.”

            The guard let out a soft grunt, either of disgust or disapproval. I couldn’t tell which and it didn't matter. She scribbled a few things on her clipboard before looking up at me. Her eyes were small and narrowed with inquisition. Every second she spend staring at me, analyzing me, it felt like I was a frog she was dissecting in a Biology class. “Move along,” she barked.

            I nodded quickly and moved down to the next checkpoint where another guard made me drop my pants, squat, and cough while she observed with a flashlight. When I asked what she was doing, she said that they could never be too sure, that people tried to smuggle things in all the time. Once I was cleared, she gave me a small stack of clothes; two pairs of pants with matching tops: a thin short-sleeved T-shirt, and a long thermal. The uniform pants and tops were navy blue and reminded me of the scrubs you saw the doctors wear at the hospital. Next, she handed me a small, clear bag. Inside was a cheap toothbrush—the kind that made your gums bleed just looking at it—and a small, travel-sized tube of tooth paste.

            “This is just to get you started. Anything else you may want or need can be purchased at commissary at the end of each week. Also, laundry day is every other Thursday, so try to keep your clothes, and yourself, as clean as possible.”

            “Com-,” I started but then paused, trying to wrap my head around everything. “Commissary…laundry every other week…” I looked up at her, my brows furrowed and creased with confusion. “What is this, jail? Are we prisoners or something?”

            She flashed me a soft, lopsided, but sympathetic smile. She rested her hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. “Try not to think about it too much and,” she paused, “try not to cause too much trouble.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

            One by one, the group I was in began to shrink as new inmates—I call them that because that is what we were—were dropped off at their rooms. The head of the group, Nam Joon, was tall and thin, except for his face. His cheeks were full and caused his eyes to disappear when he smiled. It was weird, to me at least, that someone could still smile in this situation. He had been here for a little over four months.

            “Jeon Jungkook?” Nam Joon asked, looking up from his clipboard, scanning the few faces in front of him.

            “Ah, that’s me,” I said slowly. I stepped out from behind a tall, bulky male. “That’s me. I’m Jungkook.”

            “Then this is your stop, kid.” He rested his hand on the center of my upper back and gently pushed me into the room.

            All eyes were on me in that moment. I swallowed the hard lump that had formed at the base of my throat. I could read their faces; I had seen all the movies. I was one thing to them and one thing only: fresh meat. I had never felt more alone in my life than I did when Nam Joon left me in the room, oogled by three strangers.

            After a few agonizing moments of silence, one of the strangers jumped off the top bunk and came over to me. “Welcome to Riverview. I’m Jimin.” He was shorter than me, but more muscular. Tight, full muscles peeked out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. Yet, his voice was higher pitched. In fact, the only part of his appearance that actually matched his voice was his face. It was small and child-like, though he seemed older than me.

            “Riverview?” I asked, looking confused. “Is that what this place is called? No one called it anything when I came.”

            “Ah, well it’s more of an unofficial name. As far as I know, it doesn’t have a name, but someone, a while back, decided to call it Riverview because when you go out to the yard, you can see a river out in the distance. It’s pretty lame, but it’s better than nothing.” He shrugged, not seeing it as that big of an issue. He looked over at the other two in the room. “Anyway, that is Jin. He doesn’t talk much.”

            The man he pointed to just nodded his head and gave a slight wave of his hand. I smiled softly to him and bowed my head slightly in response to him. “I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”

            Jimin flashed a boyish, silly grin. It was clear to see that he was happy to have someone new to take under his wing. “And that one,” he started again, pointing to  the sullen male laying in the top bunk on the left side of the room. “That’s Suga.”

            “Su..ga? What kind of name is that?”

            Jimin just shrugged at my question. “It’s just a nickname someone gave him, because he’s always on the cubes of sugar they give out in the cafeteria. No one knows his real name. No one knows anything about him, really. He’s just…Suga.”