Take a Shot

Escapee

Matt.

It's infuriating being in here. Every day is the same. All I have are these four cement walls, one of which has the bars that consitute my door. It takes up a quarter of its wall, and there's nothing else here.

I have a sink and a toilet on the wall attached to the wall part of the door-wall. I have a cot of sorts, bolted down, opposite the sink and toilet. It has a mattress; other inmates apparently keep money or magazines or other flat things in theirs. Not me. I don't get anything like that. The last thing I got was a clock. It's on the opposite wall as my door. I watch it as the minutes tick by. I watch my life rust and gather dust. I face it when I write these letters. I'm facing it now.

I hate this. I hate this with every fiber of my being.

But being trapped in here has given me some time to think. I have more time on my hands than I thought I'd ever have, even though I had free time at the castle. Most of that wasn't actually free time, just downtime. Times in between jobs. Times with you.

I know I'm a bad person. But I don't deserve this, do I? I deserve to die. Why won't they kill me? They said I need to atone. How can I do that? No one has told me how to fix this. Atone for what? I need you here to help me remember.

I hope these aren't hard to read. Not from a content standpoint, but from a handwriting standpoint. I never really had to write anything besides my signature. I really just relearned how to write so I could do this. It didn't take very long, only a few days. You always said I had a propensity for language. Wasn't that you?

Pireq it's hard to think in here.

"We aren't supposed to be down here," Brian whispered. Brown hair ruffled as Damian shook his head.

"Shut up. She's a creature of habit. She should be drifting off any minute now, then you can get a look at her. Just...ssshhhh." The two jailors peeked around the corner from the entrance to her cell block, empty except for her. She was two cells down from the door, and Damian could just barely see a mass of green hair from their angle. Brian audibly gulped. Damian didn't look his way, instead shifting forward, out of the door.

Brian snuck out after his friend, closing the door quietly behind him. He caught up to the other jailor, seeing more and more of the lone criminal in their "lethal and insane" bloc. They got one cell away from her when Damian stopped, Brian obediently stopping with him. He tipped his head to the side.

The woman on the ground sighed, rolling onto her back. Her arms and hair went everywhere. He'd never seen such long hair. If it was taken care of, he was sure it would be pretty, too. Such an interesting color. Brian and Damian had been on duty when she'd been sentenced to their facility, but the papers were in black and white, and even the color tube didn't do that color justice.

The slight rise and fall of her chest showed life. Otherwise, she could've been dead. They couldn't hear a single sound, even through the silence of the rest of the hall; all Brian could hear was his own heavy breathing.

"She looks...peaceful."

"Don't kid yourself. She's a goddamned animal. She could rip your throat out before you had time to blink," Damian whispered. "We're lucky she's asleep. She hasn't seen anyone, not even a guard, for weeks. She'd probably attack us. Might not even recognize us as human."

Damian motioned forward with that blood-curdling comment, but Brian followed forward until they were outside her door. Now with an unobstructed view of the woman...

"She's kinda cute."

Damian snorted. "She was hot when we brought her in. And she was always training, working out, super active. That's petered off, though. It's been what...six months now? She doesn't move much anymore. Refuses food, we had to stop giving her utensils because she'd use them to hurt herself, stuff like that."