Schizoid

:.Pathetic.:

Hey, guys. So this chapter is a little negative so if you struggle with negative thoughts please be careful. Also, these first few chapters are fillers so just bear with me, the chapters will get longer once we hit the actual storyline. 

Play the song in the media. It's Lithium by Nirvana.  

After refusing to speak without a lawyer, Tyler is nearly immediately transferred to Belle Reve in Northern Ohio. The prison is one of the most dangerous places in the country, if not on the planet. The worst of the worst are shipped off to Belle Reve from all over the world. And if the inmates aren't enough of a threat, the guards couldn't care less about being ethical. Their tactics to keep the prisoners in line are infamously brutal. The penitentiary is split into different sections: the East, West, North, and South wings and Central Containment. The East wing is a holding facility. This is where all criminals are held before their trials. Female inmates with a sentencing of 80 years with a chance of parole or less are kept in the South wing, men with the same sentence in the North. The West wing is home to the thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of weapons and heavy artillery used by the crooked Belle Reve employees. And who could forget Central Containment? This is the spot in the very center of the prison where the most menacing criminals are held. This maximum security area is flooded with individuals with life sentences and pending executions.

Welcome home, Ty.

The mentioned sits on the floor near the tiny, flat bed in his cell. It is the fourth day of his detainment. The guards working the East wing seem a little more concerned about the well-being of their 'guests', likely because they haven't yet received their guilty sentence. No matter the reason, it frustrates me to no end that the most dangerous prison in the world isn't a little more intimidating. The problem about having a vessel is that I can't sleep or retreat into Tyler's head unless he's unconscious, meaning that while he's awake, I am too. Before Tyler gave me a body, this wasn't an issue. As a voice in the back of his mind, I could retreat back into the nothingness of empty space as often as I wished. But now, I have no choice but to live alongside him. The boredom is killing me, though, and I long for the day that a guard shoots somebody or smashes in Tyler's face. I need some entertainment.

"How long do you think it'll be until I get a trial?" The young man asks me quietly.

I cut my eyes at him. "Haven't I told you not to talk to me when other people are around?" Now more than ever before, his mental stability will be challenged. And if things are going to go my way, if Tyler is going to be found guilty in the trial, he has to appear sane. If it is ever discovered that he's a schizoid, he'll be sent to a psychiatric facility instead of Central Containment, and that would ruin my plans of him rotting in prison for the rest of his life.

The boy coughs to get my attention, then begins to trace letters on the ground with his index finger. S-O-R-R-Y-.

"It's okay," I huff out, "just do what I say and we won't have issues like this."

H-O-W L-O-N-G-?

"I don't know, Tyler," I sigh. "You don't even have a lawyer yet. It's not gonna be anytime soon."

He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin and hugging his legs. He's so pathetic. He's a waste of life. I should have told him to kill himself years ago. He does nothing to benefit society. He does nothing to deserve his time here on earth. While he would sit in his room, depressed for reasons only known to him, I longed to have opportunities to socialize, to have a purposeful existence. The least Tyler could have done was put his life to good use instead of taking it for granted. The longer I look at him curled up like an idiot, the more I feel like stabbing him to death, so I step through the bars and check out Tyler's next door neighbors at Belle Reve.

The man on the left of Tyler is a small brunet with lightly colored eyes that scream danger. His body is littered with tattoos that rival my own, including a scorpion on his neck. His dark hair is cut just above his ears. I turn my attention to a guy on the right of Tyler, another thoroughly tattooed man with a feather inked into his neck, partially covered by his long unruly hair. Although his body is skinny, there is an undeniable menace to him that even I would be stupid to acknowledge. I look back over to Tyler, who continues to rock back and forth like a child. He's already worthless, but next to these men, he seems even more like a waste of precious breath. His crime was severe, but either of these guys in the cells next to him would likely tear him limb from limb. I laugh quietly to myself, but my job isn't done yet. Soon, Tyler will be given a lawyer by the state, and although most of those guys are utterly horrible at their profession, I still need to teach Tyler how to handle himself. If he's given a good lawyer, he could possibly be acquitted. Even working too well with a terrible lawyer could reduce his sentence dramatically. I walk through the cell bars.

"Listen to me," I command as soon as I'm in his cell, "when you get your lawyer, you're gonna say that you did it because you were angry. You're gonna stick to that story, okay? Don't elaborate, just let it stay at anger, you understand me?"

A-N-G-R-Y A-T W-H-A-T-?

I roll my eyes at his incompetence. "Figure it out, you have plenty of time to think of something. Do you understand?" Tyler nods slowly, only once. "Good."