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“Is he dead?” Avery whispered, eyes wide. For a guy who had supposedly took a shotgun to his stepfather’s head, he was greener than all the hills in Ireland.
“Yes,” I said as they finally took the body away.
“Whatcha all looking at?” the fat guard yelled. “Sit your asses down and eat.”
None of them moved, and a few of them glanced at me.
Moving forward, my footsteps echoed throughout the hall. It was only when I took my seat that everyone reverted to normal. Again, I grinned. Matty and Avery came over as well, sitting around me. Part of me wished that I could at least sit with my people. But for now, I was stuck.
“It’s like you're a king here,” Avery leaned over as I ate my basically frozen peas.
“That’s ‘cause he is, kid,” Marty snickered. “Your cellmate is the Liam Mad Hatter Callahan.”
“The Mad Hatter?” he asked as he glanced at me. “What did you do? Are you like Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“How the fuck ain’t you know who this man is? Ain’t you got a TV boy?” Marty threw a roll at his head, but I grabbed it before it hit him and took a bite.
“Thanks,” he muttered to me then glanced at Marty. “My step father believed television was a source of sin.”
“You ain’t ever read a newspaper? Step outside? What the fuck did he do? Keep you in a cage?” Marty joked.
“Something like that, you don’t need a chain to be locked up,” he replied picking at his food. “But it doesn't matter anymore. I blew his head clean off.”
I shook my head. He was trying to hide his fear but instead he came off like a dumbass.
“If you don’t want a needle in your arm, don’t be saying shit like that,” Matty told him, picking through the mashed potatoes.
“If I eva get a trial. The guy they gave me says I could be in waiting in here for a while. You got to trial quick, who’s your lawyer?” he asked me.
I felt like he was trying to take notes or some shit. Without a word, I rose from the table and walked away.
Once I left, so did a few others. They didn’t say anything, they simply followed me up the stairs. Our cells were just over the cafeteria, it was one of the few places we could move without the cuffs.
“Stop,” Thing One snapped, as he stepped in front of me. The rest of the men lingered on the stairs a few paces behind me.
“What are you doing?” I watched as they threw everything out my cell.
“Cell search. Since you’ve been here, there’s been an influx of drugs. The warden doesn't like that.”
The warden can kiss my fucking ass.
“And you think the drugs are hidden where? In my mat?”
He didn’t answer, he kept his arms crossed as the other guard ripped through anything and everything. And with each rip and toss, the urge to bash their skulls in grew to the point that my hands twitched. Seven more days. Seven more—
“Are you pissed, Callahan? You look like you’re having a tough time,” Thing One remarked.
Fuck it all. I was a goddamn Callahan.
Turning around, I leaned on the rail, and stared down at all of the men who were just itching for an order. O’Connor glanced up at me.
“Callahan, I’m talking to you.”
“For the sake of your family, I hope you have a good life insurance policy,” I nodded, never breaking eye contact with O’Connor.
The men on the stairs rushed the guards, grabbed onto their necks, and tackled them to the ground. Below us, chaos erupted, which pulled in every guard and staff member in the area. The sirens went off like a symphony orchestra; it was music to my ears.
“It’s open season, my friends, let your inner monster out,” I stated softly.
Stepping over the fallen guard, I grabbed the sheet, and ripped part of it before I held it to my nose and mouth. I started my countdown from five, and as expected, when I got to one, gas cans exploded, spreading below like fog.
“Everyone down! Everyone down on the ground, now!”
I wonder what the warden will say now.
DAY 17
151.
152.
153.
“How are you doing it?” she screamed, as she slammed her hand against the door.
154.
Ignoring her, I did another push up.
“Callahan, I’m speaking to you!” the dear old Warden snapped.
“I’m sorry, Warden, solitary has messed with my hearing,” I said as I stood up to stretch. “How are you today?”
“You’ve been in here for three days. No visitors. No contacts. No nothing, and yet six of my men’s families have been targeted. Six. Two every day. How are you doing it? I know it’s you!” she howled, as she slammed her hand on my door once again.
“Let me get this straight.” I used my shirt to wipe my face. “When I am in jail, it’s my fault. When I’m not in jail, it’s still somehow my fault? Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s the Chicago Police Department. Maybe it’s you, for pissing me off. But then again, this all just hypothetical….”
She swallowed slowly. “So this is the beast you are?”
“I’m just a man in a cage.”
“And you expect me to believe that you’re an innocent man?”
I didn’t answer her, I really didn’t give a fuck whether she believed me or not.
“You’re insane.”
“Oh believe me, Dr. Alden, I haven’t even put in work yet,” I walked up to the door and almost chuckled as she took a step back. “I told you to read the file, after all, this is your facility.”
“Three more days and then you’re out of my hair.” Her nose flared.
I smirked. “So then by your hypothesis, six more families? By the time I leave here, no guard will ever want to work in this hole. If that isn’t the case now. Oh, and how did the drug search go?”
“You sick bastard, I will make you pay for this!” she hissed.
The conversation was already boring me, and by my tone of voice I was sure she could tell.
“I tremble with fear. This cell is the worst you can do to me, even if you let me starve. Imagine what could possible happen if I put my mind to it.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
I was so close to the window, the tip of my nose touched it. “You want this to end? Accept that I’m not your prisoner. You are mine. The sooner you realize that, the fewer funerals you’ll have to attend.”
Dropping her head, she took another step back before turning away. “Take him to his brother in the visitor’s room. Take him there, then to his cell,” she said before walking away as fast as her tiny legs could take her.
“W-w-we need y-y-your h-hands Mr. C-C-Callahan,” the guard stammered. He looked as pale as a sheet and ready to piss himself.
Turning, I allowed them to cuff me.
“Is that too tight?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.”
“Cell 16012,” the guard called as the door opened.
Break a few and everyone follows.
As I walked in, no one made eye contact. They cleared a path for me as if I were Moses. After the second riot, they’d thought that all their problems would end if they threw me in a dark cell and never looked back. Sadly, I had planned for that. There was only so much damage that could be done from jail before we were all locked up. However, on the outside…on the outside anything goes. All O’Connor had to do was send out a name every few days.
