TEARS OF RAGE

Chapter 33

Routine rituals are often a person's anchor on the boat of sanity and peace.

A man learns to cling to the rituals that provide him a place, away from the orb of chaos and adversity.

Swaylo had to concentrate on finding ways to work off his rage. Something to take his mind off of his anguish.

Four days out of the week, he would spend an hour of his recreation time, to work out like a mindless machine... After his courtroom spectacle, he was placed in isolated housing. He was kept segregated from the general population, with other detainees.

There were two tiers in his cellblock.

Five cells on the bottom tier. Five cells along the top tier. Swaylo was housed in cell 8.

The staff would allow two people to come out for an hour of rec a day. One person could shower, while the other one could use the phone to call his family.

The pair was usually comprised of a cell from the top tier, and a cell from the bottom tier.

He was paired up with a trans-sexual, that had

D-cup breast, and the features of a female.

Byron Gazaway, known by his alias Bambie Blue Eyes, had gotten locked up for cashing fraudulent checks.

He still had cash stashed away and would give Swaylo some food when he came out for recreation.

Initial impressions had Swaylo leary of even talking to him, but whenever they came out, Byron would bring some food and that day's newspaper.

With finances as tight as they were, there was no room to splurge on anything other than an attorney, he decided.

Absorbed in a set of pushups, Swaylo caught Byron's gaze on him. His hackles rose.

"Why the fuck are you watching me, Byron?"

"I figured you would want to see this..." he replied, passing him that day's newspaper.

It was a replay to the spectacle that had taken place a week prior. He was front-page news...again.

Afraid that the Feds were monitoring his telephone calls, Swaylo had told Charmaine to keep that paperwork secured, until he informed her of what to do with it.

'What about that gun?" she had mouthed to him, at the visitation. "Lock and key it." He had replied.

The front-page news was a report that the judge was ordering a psych evaluation, to see if he was mentally fit to stand trial. That bastard was out to destroy him, he fumed, perusing through the story.

"What did they do about your lawyer?" Byron asked, genuine in his query, to see if he needed any funds to help afford adequate legal representation.

Swaylo looked off, to take a glimpse through the window when the metallic clank of a doorway being opened sounded. An officer entered the pod.

"Nothing, that I know of," he replied as a guard stepped into the cellblock. "Who knows what these people plan to do..."

The guard looked his way.

"Mitchell gets dressed, you've got a visit."

Those were the magic words to brighten his day, expecting to see Charmaine on the other side of the partition.

Just when a person sets their mind to accept the state of an insurmountable situation, that has the power to destroy their fate...

Destiny decides to arrive at his doorstep with a renewed existence, and suddenly the city was watching a young brave, hunt his first lion.

When Swaylo was lead from his cellblock, he had no clue that Charmaine was not the person waiting to speak to him. The white man seated before him was a clear representation of wealth, dressed in a tailor-made suit.

The guard that had escorted him to the visitation area, stepped out of the room. The room lapsed into a pregnant silence. Both men weighed the other.

Swaylo stood. The attorney sat, relaxed, with his leg crossed. His hands were crossed over his stomach.

His strawberry blonde hair was cut in a close-cropped hairstyle. Expensive frames covered his ice-blue eyes.

"Have a seat." He made a complimentary gesture towards the chair across from him. "We've got a bit of business to discuss, and I don't have all day." he gave a nod towards the files that sat on the table, before Swaylo.

"I've gone through your file with a fine-tooth comb, so to speak, and I have a proposition that may get you out of this dungeon. That is, of course, if you're able to handle what will be required of you..."

Swaylo took a glance at the collection of photographs that were in the file. There was a collage of pictures that had Charmaine in them...

Pictures of her and Dorian entering and leaving the apartment that she and Swaylo had leased, the same day the bank was robbed.

Pictures of her driving the 5.0, bought the same day the bank was robbed.

In the silence, Swaylo had to wonder if he had placed Charmaine at risk of being charged as a party to the crime; especially if she was caught with the money and pistol that had a connection to the bank heist.

His heart was pounding in his ears, like a drumbeat.

They could have already searched the apartment, for as much as he knew...

There is a moment when a person understands that their next decision will have a major impact upon their future.

As his gaze rose, to meet those of the lawyer, Swaylo knew that he was being confronted with that moment.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want someone that can help out a friend of mine, with a similar situation. You trade favors with a person, who is willing to pay twenty-five thousand, and help make the criminal charges against you disappear."

Swaylo stared hard into the man's eyes.

"And if I agree to work for your people, how will I know that the charges against me will be dismissed?"

"I will handle that portion of the arrangement, and to solidify it, I'll have you out of there within twenty-four hours, if you're willing to give your word, to help us with our problem."

When a person begins to feel the pull of destiny, with the force of gravity, he knows the desperation of a person stuck in quicksand...

He will find himself reaching for any type of handhold, that may help him escape away from his box of bitterness.

"It doesn't matter what needs to be done," Swaylo told him.

"You get me out of here, you've got yourselves a deal."

"Well, get some sleep. I'll pick you up tomorrow around 5 or 6 pm." The lawyer stood and gathered up his paperwork.

"Be ready to put in some work..."

Swaylo looked at the man in confusion.

"What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" The man asked.

Swaylo pondered over everything that the man was proposing and decided that the reward was more important than the test.

"No. Not really,"