Family

And who are you? ☑️

Mitch stood by the bars of his new cell, looking at the shaking little boy. He had bruises everywhere, his eye was swollen, lower lip opened with drying blood below it, two fingers on his right hand were dislocated and lot more that Mitch didn't get to see at the time.

He walked to the bunk bed. Little guy was on the higher one, which was the biggest difference besides alive and scared cellmate. Mitch didn't know whether to do or say something or try to ignore him like he tried with the previous one.

One of the guards came to the bars. "You're a doctor, right?"

"I tried to get my degree to be doctor of law, also known as being a lawyer, so no I'm not a doctor. How did you get to such information and why are you asking?" Mitch walked back to the bars.

Guard sighed. "Look at him. Our doctor has full hands at the moment and since this entire thing isn't caused by the big fight, doc decided not to see him."

Mitch's eyes went wide. "His cellmate did it to him? Where were you?" Mitch asked with anger.

"Well if he started screaming, we'd know about it earlier than when we came to wake people up." Guard tried to blame the beaten shaking boy.

Mitch furrowed his eyebrows. "Do I look dumb to you?" He tightened his fists. "This is obviously something fresh. Some of his blood is still not dried." He pointed at the boy. "If something happens to him too, there may get a problem or two thanks to me." Mitch hissed and turned away from the guard.

"Don't forget that you have to be good to get out sooner." Guard spat back.

Mitch turned back. "You know there is a difference between being good and turning away from very obvious problem." He hissed back. "I am willing to stay for 3 years more, if it helps people like him. That was my job out in the world and if it's needed it can be my job in here too. Don't try to test me, it can end your job rather quickly." He cocked his eyebrow.

Guard gave him the "jesus, one of those" look and left. He knew that type and it was better to leave them alone. Playing with type like Mitch never end well for anyone.

Mitch turned back around and his eyes met with his cellmate's eyes. "Why did you do that?" He asked with silent voice.

"Because it's the right thing to do." Mitch shrugged and went to his bed.

Then another inmate joined the conversation. "Guys, he talks and he's not as nice as person would think when they see him. What's next, he has wife with two happy kids?"

"Sorry, but no wife here. But I can give you my ex's phone number, if you want. Maybe she'll like you, after all she takes whatever she is offered, especially all she gets is prison food." Mitch laughed. "On the other side, in this place you never know how long it's going to take till somebody takes you out and get away with it."

"Is that a threat, you little b*tch." The inmate hissed.

Mitch rolled his eyes and went to get the end of his sleeve wet. He walked to the bed and motioned for the boy to get closer. "Don't worry, I am going to clean it up." He whispered.

The boy jumped of the bed and sat on the chair by the sink (or basin if you will). Mitch started cleaning up, earning hisses from the boy. "Can you not put so much pressure on the wounds?"

Mitch nodded, but boy was still hissing every once in a while. "I'm sorry, but I can't do much of difference at this point." He whispered and kept cleaning the blood of the young face. After half an hour everything was clean and boy stopped hissing every few seconds. "There you go, you're all cute now again." Mitch chuckled and went to get his bed ready.