Burned Ones

Chapter 03

Cameron.
Fourteen years old.

I ducked, crouching down as the fist came at my face. My leg flew out and I hit the other guy in the shin right before he fell to the ground. I stood over him, kicking him once with my shoe before his friend came at me from behind, hitting me right on the side of the face.

Player two joined the game.

The cell we were in spun for a second as I tried to regain my senses and focus on the new attacker. I blocked a few of his hits, landing some of my own quick jabs before multiple arms wrapped around my body, dragging me away with force. I tripped over my feet as they pulled me backwards, my shoes scraping on the concrete.

I groaned. I knew where we were going. The warden and head correctional officer threatened me with it last week if I got into any more fights. I was supposed to get out of this place soon, I didn't need this holding things up.

"Cool off, Casey," one of the guards said to me as I was dumped into the solitary confinement room.

In the corner, I slid down the wall, slumping over. My nose was bleeding and making a mess. It felt broken. I used my sleeve to clean up some of my face before pressing it against my nose. I'd be escorted to the medical station soon enough if this was similar to the last time I was in here at all. However, like the last time, I figured it wouldn't be until the other guy was taken care of first. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pounding in my head to subside.

The heavy solid door of the room creaked and I squinted one eye open to see if it was worth my time. One of the head correctional officer, Jones, stood there with his hands on his hips.

I opened both of my eyes and leaned away from the wall, sitting up straighter.

"Looks like everyone's saying Peters started it," the guard said, speaking of the first guy I had been fighting.

I kept my mouth shut. He did start it but I wasn't going to talk back right now. A lot of new guys had been coming at me recently and it was doing nothing but getting me in trouble. I think it was them coming in here with the mindset of picking on the toughest guy you could find. I wasn't the toughest in here, but I held my own and had made a little group of acquaintances. I wouldn't be a Casey if I just let people walk all over me.

A small part of me was thankful for the guys who had vouched for my innocence in the fight. Maybe I could send them to my dad if they got out soon. I had given one guy that was released a few weeks ago my dad's address and a note so the guards would let him through the fence. I had found him trustworthy and he mentioned having no place to go after he got out. If I was going to go out on jobs once I got out of here, I wanted guys I knew I could trust unlike the one that got me in here in the first place.

"You've got four days in here, Casey. Think you can sort yourself out by then?" Jones raised his eyebrow. "If not, they're looking at extending your time served."

Last time I was in here, it was for two days. I clenched my jaw to keep my emotions in check and nodded. I could sort myself out just fine, I wasn't the one running around starting fights with everyone. It just meant I needed to avoid people more.

"Let's go see if you broke your nose," he said with a laugh.

I grimaced because it wasn't funny.

He hoisted me up, not waiting for me to get up on my own. Another officer stood at the door to make sure I didn't step out of line again on the way there.

My nose was broken after patching me up, I was returned to the solitary confinement cell. Four days stuck inside of one single room wasn't ideal. But my dad had prepped me unintentionally, or maybe it was intentional, for this type of situation. It was the type where it would be easier to lose myself to the depression of not getting out of the bed, to lose all sense of time and desire or even break into hysterics screaming to let me out.