The guy from the bar

Sixty Seven

Jason's POV

I pulled the thin blanket over my head, trying to cover my eyes from the light.

"McCann, up." The guard popped his head into my cell after unlocking it and opening the hard steel door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned to myself.

I couldn't sleep shit last night.
Not only due to this bed being hard as fuck, and because I was freezing my ass. But I couldn't stop thinking about Madison.

Madison. Fuck.

The image of her crying inconsolable haunted my brain. I couldn't stop thinking about her, and not being to know anything kills me.

I want to know how she is, I want to make sure she kept the promise she made me. If she didn't it'll fucking break me.

"McCann!"

I groaned and sat up from bed.

I put the shoes that they gave me yesterday, the ugliest shits my feet have ever been in, and I walked towards the door of the cell.

He handcuffed me, just like yesterday, and I looked down the halls, checking to see if I was the only one woken up like this. By the looks of it, I was.

I followed the guard and he led me out of this section and down the hall, until we made it to an office.

I looked at my surroundings and then at the fat man that sat on a desk in the middle of the room. He seemed to be in his fifties.

"Jason McCann." He spoke as he looked up at me. "I never thought I'd live to see the day where you'd walk in through those doors."

"Take a seat." He said.

I kept a glare on him and sat down across from him.

"It's quite an impressive record you have, drug trafficking, attempted murder, murder..." he laughed as he shook his head, and lifted his head from my file to look at me.

I maintained the same expression as before and kept my mouth shut.

"I'm sure your lawyers have told you there's no hope for you. You'll be lucky if they even consider to open a trial for you." He spoke. "By the looks of it, you're sentence is the death penalty."

I clenched my jaw as I took in a deep breath.

I sighed and said "With all due respect sir, what's the point in you telling me all this crap? What am I doing here?"

He looked at me and stayed quiet. He looked taken aback by my attitude, but I could also tell that he was judging me silently.

"Mr.McCann, I'm Mr. Wilson, I'll be your counselor." He introduced himself.

"I'll be resigning you to a new cell, one you'll share with another inmate. I'll be in charge of all your personal problems, lawyer meetings, visiting hours, furloughs, etcetera." He said. "And once the judge decides on your time sentence, we'll talk about... how you'd wish to go."

"Is that all?" I asked, wanting to get the fuck out of here.

"If you have no doubts or requests, yes." He said.

"When can I have visits?" I asked.

"You can receive visits once a week for two hours." He said. "Of course, you'd have to give the name of the person."

"Madison Beer." I said as my eyes landed on one thing on his desk.

"Alright, I'll have her name given." He said as he wrote it down. "Now, if that's it, you're free to go."