Cold and Heartless

DON'T DROP THE SOAP (PART 1)

AN:  I wanted to change things up a little bit. Whenever people write a story, they always portray the female as being perfect and neat. Soooo, let's make things realistic;) 

                                                                          (4)

Izabis's Point of View - 

I gaped up at him, baffled, as he twirled the weapon in his hands. He outsmarted me. He knew my plan all along--even before he placed me into this room. We have not said a word to each other for what felt like minutes. I was afraid that he would be able to hear the fear and embarrassment in my tone of voice.

"What were you planning to do?" He asked, playing with the weapon. He then points it at my temple and cocks his head sideways in thought. "Were you going to shoot me?"

My face flushed and my heartbeat quickened. He could not possibly torture me. Everyone would know of it and his career would be destroyed. 

"You didn't think that I would read your files? I know everything there is to know about you, Isabis." He said calmly. "You would sacrifice anyone and anything for your egocentric needs." 

"You don't know anything about me-"

"Isabis Amharic, an Ethiopian women sentenced with life without parole for the murder of a pregnant woman and the attempt murder of a man." He puts his index finger over the trigger and steps closer,stealing the little space that was left between us, "Someone like you doesn't deserve to breathe, not even in Alcatraz. In fact, If it were up to me I'd kill you myself, right where you're standing."

The old Isabis would have been enraged, even hurt, but I have gotten used to people treating me this way. As if they could read me like an open book.  And to be honest, I couldn't care less if he popped a cap right up my ass at this  very moment. Death does not have power over me. I'd welcome it with open arms. 

"Do it." 

My response caught him off guard. He must have expected me to crawl onto my knees and beg him for mercy. I have learned that things never go well whenever I do that. I guess Cain had taught me a lesson after all. 

"Just as I said, you do not know a thing about me," I sneered, "You only know what they want you to know. So do it, you pussy-ass nigga."

"I could do it," he shrugged, looking un-amused , "but what difference would that make? Killing you will not bring those people back." Jordan places his gun into the left of side of his belt and bonds my hands together. I was lead out of the room and into a familiar chamber. 

As we went further into the long, hall, another guard meets us at the center. He greets Jordan with a short and simple nod and glares daggers at me. I gave him a small smile and licked my bottom lip, just how he used to like it. I guess he got re-hired after all.

He makes sure to hit my shoulder with his own as he passes by. 

"What you did today, back at the field, was incredibly stupid," He muttered, "I expected you to use your brain, considering the fact that you are already in a lot of trouble. You just added more flame to the fire."

I rolled my eyes and focused on the route. I didn't have time to listen to his criticism.

"And what did you expect me to do, pluck some cotton balls and sing 'follow the drinking gourd'?"  

He snorted. "I'm just saying, keep on doing that stupid shit and you'll wound up loosing the small amount of privilege that you have left." 

I come to a stop, turning around to face him. His chest collides against mine as we have a stare-off.