You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison (KELLIC) (boyxboy)

Prologue

[a/n Welcome to my latest fanfiction! If you didn't hear the news, I made an Instagram page for this account under 3CheersForKellic so you should definitely check that out. Also, some factual details in this story are incorrect; just ignore them, I'm not exactly an expert. This story will be in Vic's POV unless otherwise stated. I don't want to bore you with a long author's note, but I really hope you love this story as much as I've loved writing it!]

Song of the Chapter: "Painkiller" by Three Days Grace

Vic's POV

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"Stop running! You're under arrest!" I heard those sentences and others blurring together in shouts behind me, but the blood rushing in my ears was louder than the yells of the police officer. I felt my old Vans pounding on the concrete, the worn out material dirty and frayed. It was dark, and I couldn't see any option of escape.

Just a mere ten minutes ago I was at the scene of one of the biggest drug deals San Diego had ever seen. My gang, the Southern Constellations, lured the Creatures from down south to our headquarters with the offer of a full kilo of straight Mexican brown powder. There was more heroin in our warehouse right now than in the entire state of California; it was supposed to be a $140,000 deal. I had ten grams on me at the trade, symbolic of what they would receive for doing business with us. The bag was filled with the highest quality stuff we could find, shit that blackens veins and ruins lives of gang members everywhere.

Not that I would know. I'd never tried it.

How were the Southern Constellations supposed to know that the Creatures planted an ambush? How would Jaime have known that before he could shoot Chris, the other gang leader, the police would shoot him? How would I have known that I'd be left in the middle of a gunfight with enough heroin to put me away for five years, not including my gang involvement?

But here I was, turning down the alleyway that I would soon find to be a dead end. There was no escape.

"Drop the bag and put your hands up!" a voice commanded once my fate was obviously sealed. I set the bag down on the pavement, cold sweat sticking my hair to the back of my neck even on the hot July evening.

I felt ambivalent about the entire situation in that moment. Part of me was horrified at the mere idea of going to prison for the amount of time secured in that bag. But on the other hand, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life tied to that gang.

"Come with your arms raised high!" the policeman yelled. I sighed, ultimately turning around and walking towards the officers. Pistols were pointed at me from multiple angles, but there was no need; I wasn't armed. It was supposed to be a peaceful deal.

"You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to a lawyer. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you by..." the officer droned on and on while the other policemen checked me for weapons and more drugs. They looked disdainfully at the heroin in my bag, and I understood if I didn't sympathize; it was some nasty shit, but it was also the check to pay off my brother's student loans and our next mortgage.

The entire ride to the police station I contemplated what my fellow gang members were doing. Jaime was dead and with me gone, our other partner Tony was probably in charge. Hopefully he was doing serious damage control and already planning revenge against the Creatures. I wasn't really all that concerned with how the Southern Constellations would carry on without Jaime or me. I didn't care for many of the members, mostly stupid druggies and men starved for violence. I got mixed in with them as a kid, lonely and rebellious, and here I was ten years later still trapped in the system.

Maybe being in jail wouldn't be so bad if I could get my life back.

"Your lawyer will be here tomorrow, and your court date will be in a few days unless he finds some miraculous evidence to save you. Do you want to use your phone call now?" an officer asked me, leading me down the halls of the police station holding area. I considered this; was there anyone who really needed to know where I was?

"Yeah, I'll take it." The policeman led me around a different corner to a desk with three landlines on it. He motioned for me to sit and I did without complaint. The officer took a few steps back, and I dialed the number.

"Hello?" the deep baritone voice of my brother answered the call curiously.

"Hey, Mikey, what's up?" I greeted casually. Mike sighed.

"Not much, just totally swamped in work. What about you? Can I still visit this weekend?" he asked excitedly. I hesitated, guilt settling in.

"Um, no. I just got arrested. I figure I'll plead guilty, get a public defender just in case. It's not a big deal, I probably won't be in for more than five years or so if I behave," I said as nonchalantly as possible. I could deal with going to jail; I couldn't deal with disappointing Mike. I could practically hear his jaw hit the floor.

"Arrested? What the hell did you do?" he demanded. I lowered my voice to barely above a whisper.

"Drug deal. Jaime's dead. As far as I know, I'm the only one who didn't escape. There's a lock box at headquarters with some money if you need it. I just wanted to tell you so you can tell anyone else who asks where I am," I explained. Mike paused, dwelling on this.

"What about Mo-" I cut him off.

"Don't finish that sentence. You can take care of her as well as you can, but don't break your back over it. Everything will be fine. Maybe this will let me get my life back on track. I'll keep in touch, Mikey," I concluded, hanging up the phone before he could press the issue.

"All done?" the officer asked gruffly. I nodded, and compliantly followed him back to the holding cell that would be my home for the next few days.