Falling for Crime

Diary of Jones #2

Dear diary,

It's been a little over four months since my arrival at U.N. prison, and about three weeks since Arthur left me. Days are still the same. They're monotonous, boring, draining. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror in forever. I probably look horrible.

Now and then I see Arthur during labor period, and every time I look at him, my chest starts hurting. Physically. At first I considered requesting seeing the nurse, but then I decided against it. If he gets even the slightest glance at me, he looks away, looking hurt. That just makes me hurt worse. It didn't have to be this way.

Now and then, during lunch period, I catch Arthur staring. Thinking. Whatever could be going through that unpredictable brain of his. And when he stares, he narrows his eyes, shifts his gaze and then goes back to talking to his fellow authority. I've tried picking apart what he could be thinking based on his expression, but damn, I just can't do it.

I don't think he has another prisoner to look after. I think General Bielschmidt took both me and Francis away from Arthur. Whenever lunch period arrives, he never escorts any of the prisoners back to their cells. And during labor period, he just sits on the sidelines, watching. Not barking at a prisoner to 'Move it!'.

It's strange. He's strange. But I know I can't get hung up on him or what we had forever.

This is prison. Survival of the fittest.

- Wednesday, 02:35 p.m.,
Alfred F. Jones