Drunk In Love (A Scomiche Fanfic)

Chapter Eighteen - Where's Mitch?

Yes, another early update, sorryyyyyyyyyy <3

You're gonna hate me for this next bit.
Hehe xD
(Scott's POV)
"M-Michael?" I stuttered. You have got to be kidding me omg.
"What did you expect? I'm in here. For life." He laughed, and took something out of is orange playsuit.
"What's that you got there, Michael?" I edged away from him.
"A knife." He smirked his evil smirk.
"How did yo-"
"AGHHH!" I screamed in pain as he stabbed me in the stomach, repeatedly.
"It's what you get!" I breathed my last breath as I fell to the ground.
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I woke up and sighed. I was dreaming. Of course. Of course it was a dream. Michael, he was sent to a different prison, basically where all the mental people go. Asylum, I think it's called. I looked around to see if anyone was awake, and to my suprise, there was. A tough, muscly guy. Tattoos on his face and shit. He scoffed.
"What?"
"You aren't gonna last 5 minutes in this place, kid."
"Sir, I've already been here a month, I think I'm doing okay." He offered me a cigeratte.
"How did you ge-"
"Do you want it or not?" I sighed and nodded.
"Sir, I don't have a lighter."
"Fucking hell!" He mumbled and got a lighter from his jumpsuit.
"And stop with this 'sir' shit. Okay? It's Steve."
"Well, Steve. Not once have I lit one." I was referring to the cigeratte. He shrugged.

"Try it."

"But I also got taught that smoking was bad for me." I mumbled. He laughed.

"Ahh kid. You're in jail, not a Sunday school. One fag ain't gonna kill ya!" He laughed again.

"I'm not a 'kid' , and well actually it mi-"

"Give it here then if you aren't having it." He reached for the cigeratte, but I shook my head and lit it. I coughed, my lungs felt like they were on fire.

"It's horrible!" I chocked.

"You'll get used to it, kid." He chuckled, reaching forwards to pat me on the back.

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I did get used to it. It's been a month and a half. I didn't mean to start smoking. But that first cigeratte I tried, I craved another. And another And another.

Jail isn't that bad you know. I've made a few 'friends.' That Steve guy has protected me from anyone bad. But I haven't spoken to Mitch, I haven't spoken to any of my friends or family, actually.

"What's buggin' ya, kid?" Steve pick up another playing card from the pile. I had gotten used to him calling me 'kid', despite the fact I'm in my twenties.

"I miss someone." I mumbled.

"Your boyfriend?" He asked. I looked up.

"How did you know?" I whispered. He shrugged.

"Well you're in here for 5 years, you better get used to it. I'm sure they'll let you ring him soon." I sighed. Steve was right. I had to get used to it.

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"Kirstie?" I finally got the chance to ring someone.

"Scott! I thought I'd never hear from you again!" I could tell she was crying.

"Kirstie, I'm here for 5 years, it's not like I'm drying." I laughed, shaking my head. It was great hearing from my best friend.

"Anyway, how come Mitch didn't answer his phone?" I asked. Call me weird, but I was really concerned about him, even though his phone was probably dead or something.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him since Saturday. I've been quite worried." She mumbled. She hasn't seen him since Saturday. It's now Friday. That's almost a week! Are you fucking joking me? Where the hell is my Mitchie?

"Are you serious? Look, if you hear anything, tell me? I'll ring again tomorrow if I can yeah?" I was really worried now.

"Sure thing. Listen, I gotta go, I'll try and find out where Mitch is. Bye!" She put the phone down.

Anything could have happened to him.