Lockdown (A YouTuber Crossover)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I didn't do it."

It seemed like the only thing I could say for next couple days. Like I was a broken record, stuck on one line till you finally decide to fix me, but as the accusations and taunts kept coming, my denial did as well. The first ones who lashed at me were the cops who shoved me in a van, cuffing me to the seat. But what hurt worst was there taunts and threats.

"Why'd you do it, kid?"

"I didn't do it."

"He was your friend."

"I didn't do it."

"Well, now you have to pay the consequences."

"I didn't do it."

Next it was the detectives. It started a lot like in the movies. They were nice, offering deals of leniency if I just fessed up. But the more I denied it, the harder they turned, their questions became relentless and by the third day we could barely stand each other, they were kicking down chairs and blowing smoke from cigarettes in my face. But I wasn't guilty, and I wasn't ready to fess up.

Next was Zexy's parents who sat on the other side of the room. They clutched each other's arms while they screamed at me. Hatred and fury burning in their eyes more than anyone I've ever seen before in my life. The only reason they probably weren't beating me was because of the cops in the rooms that kept a hand on their shoulders, telling them that I would get what was coming to me. At this point, I could barely keep it up, my denial was barely a whisper. But I whispered it as if it was the only thing keeping me alive. When in reality it was probably sending me to my death.

The worst questions came from the people I loved. My parents. Every other time there was a large window separating us. But there might as well as been an even greater barrier between us, cause as I looked through the window, the look in my mom's eyes was not one of comfort. She believed I was guilty, and refused to listen to my pleas just like everybody else. There might as well have been a mountain, or ocean in between us. And by the time my dad led her out of the room with his unsteady hands I couldn't find the energy to whisper my pleas anymore.

I endured the interrogations for three weeks, and each night I was thrown into a cell. I told them about what really had happened. The men in black suits, the scraggly figure with the gas mask, how they stabbed Zexy in cold blood-- But my words sounded insane and hollow. I really couldn't blame them for laughing at me, I wouldn't have believed myself either if I hadn't lived through the horror myself.

My trial was just an extension and more public version of the interrogations. I shuffled down the hall with an armed guard and then chained up in a heavy cage that was more suited for terrorists or generals who committed war crimes, not scared kids. They heavy bars however, didn't stop the hatred I felt as the trial started. It felt similar to drowning in ice water. The judge, the council, everyone else who attended already believed I was a killer. The crowd awaited for my punishment, like hungry animals waiting to pounce on an injured and terrified animal.

The only time my spirits were somewhat lifted was about midway through the second day of my trial. The doors swung open and two unmistakeable men strood through. A hush washed over everyone as they strode past, even the judge lowered his voice to a near whisper, whether it was out of respect or fear I wasn't sure, but I couldn't contain myself.

"That's them!" I blurted out as they sat down. "They're the ones who framed me! They killed Zexy!"

The judge smacked his hammer thingy (a gavel I think) on the podium fixing me with the glare that if looks could kill he'd make sure it was slow and painful.

"Of course they are," The amount of sarcasm in his voice was almost unreal. "These men are representatives from Dark Furnace. Is this honestly what your defense has come to? Willing to accuse anyone of your crimes? Was I there too? Did I fight with your accomplice and stab him too?"

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. The jury laughed, and the men just flashed their silver glowing eyes and wicked grins at me. I was just a little fish on the end of a line, waiting to be reeled in.

It took the jury less than a half an hour to decide my fate. I knew it had already been decided since I stepped in this room. 12 men and women basically with my life in their hands and they only wanted justice for the person who was dead, Zexy. I wasn't even the one who killed him, but nobody would believe me. My story was way too insane. Zexy's blood was on my hands, in a way mine was on his too. If we would never have gotten into stealing, none of this would've happened. We would be at school, annoying other teenagers, chasing girls, being kids.

I trembled where I stood as the judge gave the guilty verdict. He stood up from his oak podium and banged his gavel on it bringing everyone to a silence. I already knew what he was going to say, and I think everyone else did too.

"Your crimes are heinous and unforgivable," he said slowly and calmly, too calmly. "Like so many of today's youth, you have turned to crime instead of honor, terrine instead of honesty. It truly is sad that this is what you have come too. You have killed in cold blood and now you are going to pay the price. And I here I stand, willing to sentence you without remorse or pity."

His eyes never left me while he spoke, and I could feel the back of my eyes sting like tears were threatening to make an appearance but strangely enough my eyes remained tear free.

"You knew what your punishment would be as soon as you picked up that knife," he hissed. "You know there has been no tolerance for youth crime, not since the Hellish Holidays, and like those murderous teenagers you will never see the light of day again. If it were my choice I'd have you shot right here and let it be over with, but alas I will have to settle for this." He paused. "Perhaps settle is the wrong word, this might even be a worse fate."

I knew it was coming, and I made a fist so hard I made my palms bleed. Part of me was hoping I could still wake up and it would all be a bad dream but it wasn't. It was too late.

"Tyler Alex Drago, I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment in Dark Furnace with no possibility of parole. You are to be taken there this afternoon and locked away there for the rest of your days."

I leaned back against the bars of the cage. Cheers and the banging of the gavel, I drowned it all out as the truth set in. With my ears ringing, I could only think of one thing to say.

"I didn't do it."

I can't recollect much else after that. I remember being dragged out of the courtroom and it felt as though I forgot how to use my limbs so the armed guards literally dragged me. The large men in black opened the doors telling me very quietly again that they'd see me real soon. I could feel the look of hatred from the crowds we passed as my legs slid across the smooth marble floor. I couldn't make out my parents faces because they turned away.

The one thing I actually can recollect with an clarity was while walking a past a second courtroom, the doors flung open revealing a boy similar to my age. Flailing against the guards that were dragging him out, making their job ten times more difficult. He sent one crashing to the floor so the other one went for his taser. With a flash of about fifty thousand volts the boy curled up into a whimpering, smoking heap. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but it still sent a chill up my spine as I read his lips.

"It wasn't me..."

For the briefest moments our eyes met and it was like looking into a mirror. I could see the fear, defiance and sadness in his eyes and I knew that he had suffered the same fate I had. Our dark fates intertwined. Our lives broken by the same men, in an instant. What had we done to deserve this?

And then he was gone. I was dragged down the hall, memories of the moment fading with each step as we approached the truck that would take me to my new home. To the place I would spend the rest of my life. To the place people say is worse than Hell itself.

To Dark Furnace.