*working title*

Chapter Two: Part Two

Please read the introduction to chapter one for guidelines and my own words.

Two hours later, after a long bout of terrible screaming and kicking on my part, we were about to get into one of the prison’s cabs and go to my new facility.

During my little rant, I had tried to tell Dewees and Frank all about how this was probably the worst idea I have ever heard of, but they wouldn’t accept it as fact. The kept saying things like “Oh, Gerard, it’s fine. I promise they won’t hurt you.” or “Mr. Way, this car has police escorts, no one’s going to even attempt to get through.” and “Dude! Calm down!” (That last one was Frank), but I still refused to believe them. The Calleri were stealthily trained killers, but no one realized that they were definitely not my biggest problem right now.

I mean sure, they wanted to kill and destroy me and everything beautiful I had created, but no, a new cellmate was definitely my number one priority to keep away from.

“GERARD” The warden barks at me, completely disrespecting and muddling my already-confused thought process.

I glare at him for a moment.

“What.” I state quite blatantly, trying to sustain my anger. I’m trying to panic here!

“No more whining, let’s go.”

So, despite my continual protests, and even a well-aimed kick to Ballato’s heels, we get into the shiny black cab and seal my fate.

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“Hello?”

My therapist’s shout echoes around the seemingly empty prison entryway.

“Why do we have to go in the guest entrance?” Frank whines. He seems to do that a lot. “I mean, I work here!”

“Quiet!” An unsteady female voice pipes from behind the reception desk just before loud screams can be heard from the next hallway over.

“What’s going on?!” Warden Ballato asks in an assertive yet cautious tone.

“Shh, come here, behind the desk, quick!” The lady cheeps once again, so Ballato, Dewees, Frank, and I swiftly dash behind the cramped desk.

“It’s uh, it’s a little cramped back here.” Frank states quite obviously.

“Well it’s better than being assaulted by angry prisoners, isn’t it?!”

My associates give her a confusedly panicked look while I call to mind the fact that though the Calleri didn’t try to apprehend us in the cab, they just might have been waiting in my new penitentiary for the moment I walked in and the fate was sealed.

Of course! They’re here for me. Those aren’t prisoners, they’re a savage battalion of my greatest enemies. The woman’s next words somewhat confirm these suspicions.

“Well, I’m actually not completely sure if they’re prisoners, but the shouting and rattling of gates really has no other explanation.”

I inhale a sharp breath. It’s a trap.

Then Frank asks a question that makes our small group tremble more.

“How long have you been hiding?” He asks sternly, yet shakily.

“Two hours.”