Exposure to restricted entities may cause one harm. But exposure to wrong might cause a harm that is far crueller. Kismet is the master. It pronounces everything; all pre-decided.
In the systematic universe where life and beings exist, governance is...
The timing was perfect. The head officers and most of the others were out on an emergency duty, leaving behind only a few to patrol around. Namjoon had to go through a few questioning sessions and since he'd mastered in excellence an innocent-and-ill Jimin's facade and persona, the officers had been understanding. Crying Jimin was pitiable and Namjoon knew that well. In his days, Namjoon had had been remanded a considerable number of times. He never took it to his stone heart, he had been well ensured in the skills of both him and Gitak's lawyer to have worried about mere vindictive shreds of evidence or the trial. On the hindside, it was harder to act Jimin, to behave like the mere thing was taking a toll on him.
Namjoon, or Jimin, as the law and science identified, had been now transferred to a prison. The trial could have been delayed further, the transferring only made sense that way. Of course, a prison would provide better facilities for a longer vacation of the prisoner( or in Namjoon's case, the accused, perhaps); Especially to the police. Controlling a possibly dangerous suspect would be easier within the well-guarded boundaries of a capacious prison.
Namjoon had been confident he remembered a few basics of law and order from his experienced days. All in vain, because in the circumstance, he didn't know what was happening around. He wasn't sure if he was a suspect, or an accused, or even a convicted prisoner owing to how he was in a prison cell. He was salvaged from it when another cellmate was introduced to him. It was a politician's son who was creating fuss about having to be allotted with criminal dirtbags(as he called it). The guy was soothed when he was brought to an upgraded cell that only inhabited an innocent-looking remanded guy. That was when Namjoon confirmed he wasn't submerged yet.
Anyway, it was the perfect timing. A perfect environment? No. That would have been the police cell where he was grounded earlier, for he'd have had higher prospects of being taken to a hospital then. A prison, unlike the earlier, would have an infirmary. Without giving more thoughts into it, Namjoon banged Jimin's head on the wall crying, the demeanour all psychotic but the mournful shadow pitiable. His cellmate, dumbfounded, tried his best to pull him back from the wall. An elbow landed on the cellmate's mouth, all harsh.
"I'm trying to calm you down, dude. Don't test my patience," the cellmate said.
"I don't deserve this," came the reply followed by punches to the stomach. And that had been the breaking point of the hot-headed son of the famous politician. He lunged forward to repay with the punches to Jimin's face. Namjoon gladly took all of it with a few lazy throws undirected to his opposer's body riling the other more.
When the desired result didn't present itself to him even after bleeding copiously, Namjoon went ahead to bang his head more with deliberate yells. He finally felt consciousness leaving his borrowed body when the few patrolling officers barged in. Jimin's blood-stained body fell on the floor with a thud. When Namjoon heard the word 'infirmary' pop up, to his dislike, he managed to utter a few last words with his fluterring, almost-closing eyes, to the officer he had his borrowed body rested against. It was his last attempt at sealing the aim of his plan.
"My medicine," he stuttered. "I, I need my medicine."
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