Reaper's Lullaby

Gus: Sentencing

"While there's life, there's hope."
-Marcus Tullius Cicero

Gus was four weeks deep into his stay at juvenile hall before someone dared to challenge him. It happened at lunch when they were all waiting in line. He had been on guard for weeks, so he wasn't exactly surprised when he felt himself suddenly yanked back by the neck of his prison shirt.

"Hey faggot! Get behind us," said a harsh voice.

Gus turned and found himself face to face with a Hispanic boy twice his size.

"I was here first," he said calmly.

The other boy grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him. "I said get behind us!"

"Take your fuckin' hands off me," Gus said in a low voice.

By now the others in line were catching onto the fact that something was about to happen. The Hispanic boy chuckled and started ruffling Gus's hair and stroking his face.

"Make me," he said. "Make me, pretty boy. You know what I think? I think you like to suck dick. Why don't you suck mine?"

Gus lost it. Meth and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he grabbed the boy by the shirt and with inhuman strength threw him onto the freshly mopped floor. Then he jumped on top of him and began pounding his face while excited voices swelled in the background. Because of his size, fighting was all about the upper hand for Gus. If he had the upper hand, he could hold his own. If not, he didn't stand a chance.

The other boy shoved him off onto his back, a position that Gus knew was a losing one. If he found himself in it, he used anything he could to shock his opponent long enough for him to wriggle free like a mouse. This time he grabbed a nearby wet floor sign and smacked the boy over the head with it. It wasn't enough of a blow to knock him out, but it was enough to give Gus the upper hand again.

But now someone was blowing a shrill whistle.

"TASER, TASER, TASER!" shouted a deep voice, and Gus felt a lightning flash of extreme pain that rendered him completely unable to move. His body went ridged as his muscles locked up.

When it was over, he collapsed next to the other boy, who was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose.

"Who's laughin' now, bitch?" Gus managed to say weakly before they pulled him to his feet and handcuffed him.

Though it earned him a week in lockdown with no privileges, Gus was relieved he'd passed the test and proven himself. No one would mess with him now. The weak ones got their stuff stolen or their food taken at lunch. Gus had shown everyone that he shouldn't be counted among the weak, and for that alone, it was worth it.

In lockdown, Gus withdrew into the world inside his head, where he relived memories of those he'd lost. Reality hurt too much, and he was sure his best days were behind him. What hope was there in the future? What was left for him in this world?

"Adam?" he whispered into the darkness of the small silent room that night. "Tell me what it's like to be dead."

Adam did not answer him out loud, but he did visit Gus's dream that night.

In the dream Adam was sitting under the bridge where he had died. There was a source of light that came from somewhere, but when Gus looked there was nothing beyond the bridge. No city. Just darkness. The light seemed to emanate from within Adam himself.

"Well, you wanted to know," Adam said, sweeping his arm to show off the only space that existed.

"You just stay here all alone?" Gus asked, walking over and sitting beside him on the slanted concrete.