Betrayed

Clay Mitchell

"Well, were ya snooping?" He asked again, disregarding my early question.

"Um... Ya, I guess" I was confused why he was so concerned about my business here. However, as soon as I said yes, he started flipping out, cursing in his brooklyn accent.

''SONNOFFABITCH, WHYTHEFUCK? MOTHUFUCKA, MOTHAFUCKA!!!" He charged at me, only to be stopped by the clear, glass wall seperating our two cells.

"Who the fuck ratted me out? HUH?!?!?! Was it the Daily Reporter? Who told you? Who are you with?" He kept banging against the clear wall, demanding to know answers I didn't know how to answer.

'' The fuck do you mean?'' I pushed against the wall, as if I were trying to push him off.

"I've been working on this story for 2 years! TWO MOTHERFUCKING YEARS!!!!" He screamed again, banging his fist against the wall again, like a chimp at the zoo, trying to establish fear and dominance.

"Good for you. But I'm not a reporter, you derp.'' I replied back, assuming he was a reporter or something.

He lowered his fists and his facial expression went to that of a lost puppy who peed on the couch and wanted to be forgiven. "You're not?"

I shifted my head back and forth, "No.''

He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar and jacket, replacing his angry voice with a cool, collected one. "Well, that's good to know. Name's Clay by the way, Clay Mitchell."

I took a moment to gather all that just happened. I arrive at an island in God-Knows-Where, I get thrown to jail, and my cell mate just had his monthly period.

"Name's... Ummmm" I wasn't sure if I could trust this guy, not yet.

''Ummmm? What, were your parents Jewish or something?"

''My name isn't important, not now at least. Right now I wanna know who you are?''

He smirked and chuckled while pacing around in a circle, '' You really think that's gonna work on me, kid. I'm from York, I deal with swindlers like you. You get me to talk, then you steal my story and sell it to someone else and my career is kaput."

I spread my arms and gestured towards my entire body. "Do I seriously look like a reporter to you? Bro, I'm 16. All I could do is post this on facebook or something."

He took one quick look at me before finally opening his mouth. "Good point."

He folded his hands together, and resumed walking in circles, mumbling to himself.

He sat down in his toilet, which was in a dark corner of his cells, where he began digging into his shoes and started humming to a unfamiliar song.

I'm starting to think this guy is insane.... Or at least on crack.

Just then, he got up after sifting through small pieces of paper which he stuffed backed into his shoe.

''Alright kid, here's the deal. There's a lot in the world that is kept from us. This litlle BlackWing thing, it's just one of the many secrets kept from us. I'm a freelance reporter, I've been scraping up stories about human care issues or a new baby panda in the zoo. But deep down, I new there was a story that would make me famous. I started doing some research a few years ago, on this new company, New Tech. It just came out of nowhere.'' He motioned his hand to create a small 'explosion'.

He started pacing again, a bit umcomfortably due to the wad of paper is his shoe. " Soon, New Tech is buying stocks and getting bigger? That didn't sit right with me. So I kept digging in deeper and deeper."

"Until you found BlackWing and you got yourself thrown in here." I decided to save time and cut his little ditty short.

A sly smirk grew on his face as his pointed at me. "I like you."

He kept rambling about his story. Like me, he knew about BlackWing, he came out to Canada looking for it, next thing he wakes up in a cell.

"But that was two years ago, why are you still here?"

He sighed and cupped his hands around his face. ''What are you? Deaf? I been here, gathering enough info from these mooks, piecing together the puzzle."

A few minutes of silence flew by before he shattered the silence.

"Did they stamp you?"

I felt my neck, it burned since those guards stamped it with something.

I winced in pain after touching it lightly, "Yeah, why?''

A grim expression grew on his face.

"Oh boy, that ain't good."