Gone Girl 2

Chapter 19

Derek's POV

(6 months ago - Prison)

Today is the day I fuck up my life. More than it had ever been fucked.

Prison is hard, but snitching makes it one thousand times harder. No one respects snitches, no matter the reason. They are often viewed worse than murderers and rapists.

Even if I wait five years to get out of prison, I will never have freedom. They will always use me for their shitty, illegal acts, and I know it was my fault I got myself in that situation, but I desperately wanted to get out without them hurting everyone I know.

I shouldn't be the one locked up here, while they abuse and hurt people. Not after what Felix did to Veronica.

I took the blame for her because there was no hope for me—she doesn't know that—but the drugs in the car were just the cherry on top, a perfectly placed proof to arrest me and keep me here for a long time. They knew I had something to do with Felix's gang but they had no proof before that.

I'm going to testify. I'm going to tell them every small detail, even if it will get me killed. At least someone will do something about them and they won't ever hurt anyone else again.

His men still send me messages.

If I talk, he'll hurt everyone that I have ever talked to. If I don't talk, he will wait for me to get out so I can 'work' for them again, if I don't want to work for them, they will kill everyone I love, then kill me.

There is no better way out.

It's risky. I can never know which police officers are on his side, but if he had any men on his side in this prison, he would have freed me, of course, to work for him.

My inmates don't know I'm testifying today, they don't care that I'm not snitching on them. They think all snitches deserve to get maimed, and that's if you are lucky.

The gate to my cell unlocks and Jerry, the guard gives me an eerie look. He knows I'm a dead man.

"Derek Forster, come outside."

The inmates look at me for a few seconds and then burst out in a laugh. "Gonna get shagged?"

They continue making their comments as I walk out of the prison cell.

It's barely morning and I can't remember the last time I ate. The food here is disgusting.

"You're dead," Jerry whispers over my shoulder as he puts the handcuffs on my hands.

"Wasn't much alive before either," I joke.

He laughs. "Let's hope they place you in isolation."

That somewhat sounds worse than getting my fingers cut off.

Jerry is probably the nicest guard anyone could ever have here. And the standard of niceness is low here.

I confessed two days ago and my court hearing is in two hours, my defense lawyer hired by Shanice should be here any time now.