Disclaimer:I don't own pokemon. Never have and never will.

TRAPPED

Chapter one: Enclosed

Iron bars. Twenty iron bars. Bars with a lock to keep me in this prison. To keep me locked away from the outside world because I know a secret. A very important secret. One that is the key to the downfall of Team Rocket. Revenge for how I've been wronged.

For seven months I have been kept in this tiny cell. Ten paces each equaling a foot from the barred window to the barred door. Five paces from wall to wall. In the winter it is cool and summer hot. That is the only way for me to tell the season.

My companion nudges my hand and I reach down to pet him. It is spring now so my hands are not mittened and I can feel his warm, silky fur. I wear a light purple tee shirt and baggy jeans. A headband holds back my ragged purple hair.

I pick at the jeans and smile. How ironic that I should recieve only the best in hip new clothing when some of the members of Team Rocket are wearing rags.

I finger the ragged ends off my dark purple hair and wonder why I can't have a haircut. I get the best of clothes but no haircut? I need to ask the guard again to have it cut.

My companion nudges me again. I look at him for the first time in months. I mean really look at him with my eyes and not my memory. His light brown fur is as ragged as my hair. His body is thin and haggard like my own I suppose. Only his eyes show signs of health. They sparkle.

I look around my cell since I can't seem to deal with the truth of my friend. It's one of the better ones I suppose. I'm only guessing since I have never seen the others.

There is a twin bed which I'm sitting on now. The sheets like my clothes are high quality and I do have a comforter. It isn't the softest of beds but at least there are no lumps or vermin.

I have a sink, mirror, and toilet. The sink occasionally does bring in hot water and the mirror is servicable. Not that it matters how I look anymore. The toilet flushes. I guess a chamber pot is too much work for my caretaker. Even my friend Jazz has a box of dirt in which to do his business.

A small table is next to my bed and this is where I eat my meals. A purple rug covers the concrete floor. A small chest which serves as a dresser is the only other piece of furniture.

A tired sigh escapes my lips and I fall back on to my hard pillow. Staring upwards at the ceiling I listen. Soon the guard will appear to feed me. Jazz and I usually play 'guess the food', but today was different. Maybe I'm getting sick.

I heard of revenge consuming a person's every thought and action but didn't believe it until now. Or rather I realized it after the first month in my cell. Yes my cell. Most likely it is mine until I die.

Author's note: Okay, so it starts out depressing but it will get better I promise! This is my first fanfic on the internet so I would like suggestions, flames, constructive critism, compliments, anything! Another note, usually i don't write stories like this. Normally each chapter is like five- ten pages long.