JASHER

JASHER. PRESENT.

HIM. THE NEW KID.

This was the cockbarrel who'd been badmouthing my gang. He doesn't  look like much. I can tell just from his eyes he ain't  shit. The fear... Nobody who's worth anything in San Domingo has fear like that in their eyes. You either square the fuck up and fight head-on or you end up someone's fuckbuddy.

I almost feel sorry for him, looking at him cry. It wasn't other prisoners holding him down, it was a couple of guards on my payroll. That's what had him so scared, I think. Nobody was coming to stop this beat-down. The guards were on my side.

"Explain yourself, four-oh-two."

I address him by his number. Increases the fear. Around now he was thinking "this fuck doesn't even see me as a person."

The poor scared fuck spends the better part of a minute trying to stutter out a response.

He probably said something along the lines of "I was trying to earn a reputation with the other gang, " but fuck if I know.
"Unforgivable," I hiss, narrowing my eyes.

He's not looking at me.

"Listen to me you shitwagon. LISTEN."

I squat to get on his level, grab him by the chin and force him to look me in the eyes.

He pisses himself.

"You don't fuck with the Judges, you hear me?"

He nods vigorously. I can almost hear his head shaking.

"I can't fucking hear you. You hear me?"
"YES, I'M SORRY! I WON'T FUCK WITH THE JUDGES AGAIN!"

"Damn straight you won't."

My voice is quiet . Deathly calm. I nod to the two guards holding him and they let go.

'Stay on the ground."

He sobs. Doesn't move.

I raise my fist, punch him hard enough that his neck twists around. He's got whiplash, maybe a sprain. Sixteen years in the hole teaches you how to hit.