Prisoner - Liam Payne FanFiction

Chapter 2

Screams. All I could hear were ear-piercing, echoing screams. This happens about once, sometimes twice a week. Another one has lost their mind and now they're being take away... To the basement where all the crazies go. They usually get chained up and left in a small room to jitter, shake, and scream.

I lay on the bottom bunk, my fingers entwined together while resting upon my chest. An unpleasant sound with a mixture of the psycho crying, and the guards trying to get him to the elevator, echoed around the corridor. Soon enough, I could hear the metal doors sliding open with a loud squeak, and eventually the screeches faded into a silent mute.

I opened my eyes, looking at the bottom of the bed above me. The rusted springs popped out, tearing the what-was-once-blue fabric. Dirt and dust sprinkled over it, the disgusting scenery something I've been used to for years now.

A quiet pat of footsteps could be heard outside of my cell, the sound bouncing off the long, stretched out walls. I instinctively turned my attention to the metal bars, watching as Drake approached.

"Come on Payne," his deep, rough voice spoke. I furrowed my eyebrows together, turning my body and standing to my feet. As I stretched my arms, he put the key in the slot, fiddling with it until the brass shifted, easily sliding open. I kneeled down on one knee, tying my torn up shoelaces together. Small pieces of string stuck out, making it a little bit more difficult to tie. "You're going to therapy."

I stood to my feet quickly, looking at him and blinking a few times. "Therapy?" I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest. I leaned against the filthy wall smugly, watching as Drake put the keys back in his pocket, the metal from the keys jingled as it slid back-and-forth on the chain. "I'm not going to therapy, no way in hell."

He laughed himself, a sound I've never heard before from him, but I almost immediately realized that it was fake. "Come here, you are going. You don't have a choice." The second the words fell from his dried up, chapped lips, his expression became stern. I stepped forward a few feet, looking at him with confusion.

"Woah, don't turn out to be Greg on me." I held my hands up high and laughed, looking at him and his tongue ran over his lips, and then parting to make a sort-of clicking sound.

"Give me your god damn wrists." He half laughed, going back to the more usual him. I chuckled a little, putting my wrists together and approaching closer to him. He loosely put the cold metal around them, a screech of another prisoner farther down taking his focus away from me for a second. He peeked back out, looking down the narrow hallway.

I huffed, watching as he quickly turned back to me. "May I ask why I'm going to some shit therapy?" He sighed, stepped back so I could walk out of my cell. I did so, not turning back as he closed the cell, the metal-to-concrete colliding together with an awkward clap.

"I signed you up." He stated, his hand wrapping around my bicep. I stepped back, turning to face him.

"You did what?" He grabbed my arm again, yanking me down the corridor. I snatched away from his grip but continued to walk.

"I signed you up," he repeated, confirming himself. "You get out of here in another six years, correct?" I nodded, looking down at the dusted, muddy footprints on the floor. "Taking therapy will reduce your time period in half."

I huffed, glancing over at the brunette man who is just an inch taller than me. "So I'd get my time period cut down to three years?" I gaped, confused by what I was hearing. He nodded, turning a corner which led to another out-stretched hallway. I followed quickly beside him, my footsteps keeping up with his.

"I know you don't belong in here Payne. Yes, you did some bad stuff but everyone has a story." I slowed down from walking a bit, still keeping up with him. "I did this for you because I'm getting transferred to another prison tomorrow, so I'm going to get replaced."

"You're leaving me with Greg?" I rolled my eyes, sighing. Greg is literally the worst. He doesn't intimidate me, but he gets the satisfaction of me having to listen to whatever he says or I'll get more guards and shit on my case already. "You know I'm going to punch him."

"Shh, you'll be fine." He led me to a a metal door, a small light above it flickering slightly, giving off a soft glow. "Cooperate in there or you will get kicked out and have to stay here for the full six years." I nodded and half smiled, shrugging a little. "And don't be an asshole like you usually are. I'm shocked you're not being cocky with me right now." He chuckled, and I couldn't help but to softly grunt a smile with him.

"I actually like you! I'm just an asshole to Drake. What goes around comes around." I cleared my throat, watching Drake nod in agreement.

"But I know that I'm the only person in this whole place you're nice to. Don't be an asshole to your therapist." He punched my arm slightly and a nudged my shoulder to his. "I need to go now," he reached for the door handle, pushing it down. The metal door swung open, revealing a room of approximately eight people sitting in a circle.

I glared at Drake, his hand pressing into my back and nudging me in. I caught my balance, turning back to him quickly. "Good luck Payne. I'll see you on the other side in three years." And just like that, he closed the door.

I turned back around, looking at the jittering people as they sat in a group. "Liam Payne?" A soft, women voice spoke. I turned my head up, my eyes following in the direction that the voice came in. A beautiful girl stood there, and I couldn't help but smirk as my eyes landed on her.

"That's me."