Behind Bars

One minute late...

The silence surrounding us was one I had never experienced ever since meeting Shawn. After two years of getting irritated at the bubbly, talkative and friendly side of him,it was hard to believe the person sitting in front of me was Shawn.

"His face was ashen, akin to pale. His plate held a mess of lumpy, tasteless potatoes and a slice of bread which might have been mistaken for a hard rock sitting in the same position it had fifteen minutes ago but the scariest thing about this situation was he hadn't spoken a word to anyone for three days after his cousin died in the shower.

Yes,the guy who drowned himself on purpose was Shawn's cousin.
That is a really messed up way of ending your life.

In a moment like this, what was I to say?
I am sorry...

Expressing condolences was like dissecting a time bomb.
You never knew whether a wire you'd dissect was going to stop the bomb from going off or speed up the time of explosion.

So, I'd decided not to take the chance.

We had exactly eight minutes till lunch would be over to get filed back into our prison cells.

One thing I had learnt here was to accurately predict the time without a  watch or clock in sight.
With the loud silence present all the time, I'll take any distraction and if it's a ticking clock,so be it.

I scoop up the mucky potatoes to my lips with a spoon that looks like it has seen better days. The sight close up is enough to make me dump it back into the bowl.

I've stopped trying to make sense of the food we're served here.
This is prison.

Six minutes...

Just like the previous three days,Shawn picks up his untouched tray of food and stands up without a word.

Even though, I'd refused to admit it and I'll still refuse to,Shawn in the past two years had grown on me unaware. He was the only one who tolerated my bullshit and actually wasted his time to speak to me.

I really felt for the guy.

He and his cousin had been sentenced to a three year term after a theft went wrong and left a man disabled.

The whole canteen goes quiet when the sound of a metal tray coming into contact with the ground resonates.

"Bloody hell!. What's your problem,dude?"

I scout the entire canteen searching for a guard on duty to intervene. That's before I remember what day today is–Wednesday.

Wednesdays meant less officers on duty and less officers on duty meant they would rather spend their lunch breaks by themselves than babysit prisoners.

I'd always wondered why that wasn't the case when there were more officers on duty.

Thanks so much,universe.

Shawn stares down from the food spilled on the floor to the mashed potatoes splayed on the guy's uniform and back to his face,his expression giving nothing away.

"Oi,are you deaf? I said what the hell is your problem?"

Shawn makes to walk by him but the guy surrounded by a posse drag him back.

If this wasn't getting close to a messed up situation,it would have almost been comical.

In highschool,we had cliques and some acted like they were on top of the world and everyone had to do their every bidding.

Their stupid notion to that absurdity is the reason I have a permanent scar stretching from my palm to my hand and fingers.

I'll bet my dinner he was one of those pompous guys in highschool who was both sickly admired and feared by everybody and in the end it left him feeling he owned the world.