The clouds had settled thickly over the city an hour ago and the rain that pounded against the hollow metal roof of the prison was really getting on the prisoner's nerves. The water ran in through a hole in the roof, around 40 feet above, and dripped into The Thief's cell. The drips would have annoyed him if he was in a condition to be annoyed. He laid back and let the water fall on his face.
He was hot, the warden didn't bother to put out the fires anyway. The Thief sighed and laid his arm across his chest. He flinched as a spike of pain flared from his infected cut. The water felt good, dripping onto his face, and seeping into his hair.
The Prisoner thought about his crimes, while the pain in his arm stabbed through him and let a flood of angry hot fire flow through his body. He'd found a girl dressed in fancy clothes standing in the street. So, he'd taken her, stolen her jewelry and returned her home, too bad the guards got to him before he could escape. He'd been charged with 'attempted assault'. He wasn't even in jail for his real crimes!
An unfamiliar face came into view. It was a female guard. He turned his head to study her. Many scars sliced her arms. The thief stared up at her and the deepest, coldest hazel eyes stared back. He only moaned in even worse pain as a headache pounded at his skull.
"If you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, then it's not going to work," she crossed her scarred arms. The Thief didn't reply and let his eyes trail back to the bit of the bleak, cloudy night sky that he could see through the hole in the roof.
"You're going to get a cold if you continue doing that," The guard told him. She put her hands on her hips.
"I don't care," The Thief muttered.
"Are you suicidal?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"No... My whole-body hurts and I'm not moving!" The Thief snapped. "Because some of your stupid guards cut my arm and now its infected. After that I'm arrested for something ridiculous. I didn't assault that princess; I was merely speaking to her!"
"So you say," The guard scoffed.
"I'm a thief not a sexual abuser, or an abuser of any kind!" The Thief threw up his arms.
"Stealing a person is Kidnapping and stealing their things is an even worse crime! But I guess you could have done worse to her," She mused. The Thief closed his eyes. "I suppose we shouldn't leave that cut untreated,"
"So, what are you going to do about it?" The Thief asked. "It's not like anyone wants to help a criminal," He pressed his eyes shut tighter.
"Fine then, you may be right, but you're not all the way right," The Thief heard the cell door being opened and blinked.
"What are you doing in here?" He growled. She knelt next to him.
"Helping you, now sit up, or I'm going to have to pick you up myself," She narrowed her eyes. The Thief struggled to sit upright and yelped in pain. He moved his arm and squeaked. The Guard looked at the bruised bumps and set down a bucket.
She took out a scalpel and paused. "This is going to hurt,"
"No shit," The Thief snapped. The guard scraped the thin clear skin off of the top of the wound and scrubbed the blood off of it. She used a clean sponge and dipped it in the bucket with the soapy water and carefully scrubbed the wound.
The Thief screamed as she put a painful disinfectant on the wound. It felt like fire, racing up and down his arm, imaginary flames licking at his skin. Diving deep into his flesh and ripping it apart shred by shred.
He fell into a deep black swirling pool that was waiting for him, it was as dark as ink. It was as if he was burning, but the fire gave him frostbite. The shocks of pain became more intense, until he startled awake to see that he was asleep in a bed, chained to the posts. The guard laid on the floor.
She looked up from her book and smiled. "Oh, hey, You're Finally Awake!
