SNITCHES → MICHAEL SCOFIELD

• chapter six •

" I don't know where you're going but have you got room for one more troubled soul? "

- A L O N E T O G E T H E R

chapter six // tattoos

U N K N O W N
The short, male waiter stood patiently by the door with his head held high as both my correspondents and I entered the small business room.

As soon as we were seated he walked over, a white ironed towel hanging neatly across his arm. "Will there be any beverages, sir?" He asked politely, ducking his head as he spoke.

"No, Timothy, this will only be a short meeting- thank you." I replied, waving him to the door with my hand. The guests sitting in front of me were glaring at him with distaste as he strode out of the room, their suits almost as polished as the wooden desk was.

My smile diminished as soon as Timothy stepped out of the room, my lips dead panning into a straight line. My eyes narrowed as I looked over at the men seated before me, their menacing stares equaling mine.

"I believe we have a problem." I said with a snarl, placing my hands gently on top of each other on the desk. "I thought Maylyn Jones was taken care of."

"She's incarcerated, that's what you wanted, wasn't it?" The man with the slight scruff replied, "She's getting what she deserves."

I brought my fist down onto the wooden desk with a bang, ignoring the spark of pain it created. "She deserves more than this, I want her to watch her entire world crumble apart like I did."

The younger man sitting on the other side looked up at me, obviously only young and oblivious to my built up rage. "Maybe being in prison is punishment enough?"

I turned my head to face him slowly, my eyes glowing with raw anger at his words. I saw the regret flicker over his face as he stared blankly at me, gulping once. "She killed my family and took away everything I ever held dear. She doesn't deserve happiness."

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M A Y L Y N
Another morning. Another count. I didn't even know what day it was. People were right when they said that you lose track of time in prison- too bad I didn't mark the concrete for every day I was in here.

I hadn't spoken to many people, and just kept to myself. Getting the job on PI was actually a relief, considering how I'd thrown it back at Michael only 24 hours ago.

Speaking of Michael, he deserved an apology sometime or another- might as well be today. All he'd done while I was in here was good and all that he'd shown me was kindness. It could have been so much worse.

I made my way out of my cell and into his, only to be greeted with an empty room. I sigh emitted past my lips, and I went to turn away, but a small flash of yellow caught my eye. It was poking out playfully from underneath his pillow, and I debated whether or not to investigate.

I bit my lip as I looked around another time before making my way over and tugging on the yellow corner to reveal a large envelope. It had a faded stamp of my name on the front of it, and a couple of white sheets of paper were poking out of the top.

I held my tongue as I took the papers out, looking at each one individually. It was all about me.

This was all personally classified. How could Michael even think about doing research on me like that? Speak of the devil, I looked up to see him standing silently at the door of his cell.