Renegade

        It was happening again. The beast was as dark as coal, with wings that thrashed through the air. It was advancing toward me. I continued backing up until I felt the cool, steel bars behind me. A shiver ran throughout my entire body.

I was in a cage with no doors, no way out. My knees went weak and I slid to the floor, covering my head with my arms. I closed my eyes and buried my face. The beast was now screeching, an ear-piercing scream that echoed deep into the recesses of my mind.  

My eyes shot open as I scrambled to tear the sheets from my body. I searched around for the beast, but it was no longer there. I was in my room, the same cell that I had woken up in each day for as long as I could remember. It had only been a dream, but I had dreamt the same nightmare a thousand times. Always the same creature, the one with a jet black body and long winged arms. 

I swung my legs off the bed and sat up. Today was going to be a long day. 

I was sent to the prison as a young child in place of my father. My father was a corrupt man who could not pay off his many debts. That was all I knew of him and all I needed to know. It was determined that he would spend the rest of his life in Peña Dura due to his debt problems, but he cut a deal with the courts to swap places with his young son. The child was raised in the worst hell imaginable. 

I learned quickly the ways of life in prison. I mastered the art of theft so that I could steal enough food to survive. I read every book that I could get my hands on. My understanding ranged from history to science to language skills. By the time I was fifteen I could speak English, Spanish, and Latin. I was fascinated with war strategies used throughout history.

Not only did I expand my knowledge, but I worked my body until I was in peak physical condition. I learned how to channel my strength to fight and effectively destroy anyone who opposed me. The past several years I reigned as the self-appointed ruler of Peña Dura prison.

I stood up and paced around my cell. Ten minutes later the alarm sounded and each cell door opened. Every prisoner stepped out into the hall. We followed the monotonous routine of walking to the shower room then to the cafeteria.

"Diablo!" called one of my friends, Ignacio. "How are you feeling, man?"

My real name was Antonio Diego, but everyone stuck to calling me Diablo. Diablo in Spanish means devil.

"I'm alright." I replied. The truth was I was nervous as hell.

"The tests yesterday went okay?" Ignacio asked.

"Yes." 

Several weeks ago a man came to Peña Dura asking for recruits. His organization had developed a new type of steroid and required a test subject. He added that all previous test subjects had not survived. I was not interested until he offered an incentive.

"The test subject will receive a shortened sentence. For some of you that means the possibility of freedom."

Freedom was a word I had only read in books. I volunteered to be the test subject. They conducted a series of tests ranging from knowledge to combat. Every other volunteer dropped out, leaving me as their only choice. 

"So what are they gonna do to you?" Ignacio pressed.

"Inject me with the new drug and see what happens. They assured me that someone of my stature can handle it. I'm taking off in about an hour."

There was a pause before Ignacio asked, "Will you come back?" I considered him a friend, but I had no emotional attachment to him or anyone else in Peña Dura. 

The hour slowly ticked away as I sat with my friends-or the people I associated with-and told stories about different happenings over the course of our stint in Peña Dura. It was refreshing in a sense to recollect some of the memories. They took my mind off of the future.