Xavier West, a serial killer that lurked in the night and captured in the day with an IQ of 215. Who knew that a serial killer could be so smart, yet so dumb? In the year of 2016, he was finally caught after killing and dismembering teenage girls fo...
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"Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four.." West counted off as he did his push-ups. Something he picked up to occupy his time.
Yes, he was still in the SHU and even though all privileges are supposed to be suspended while facing disciplinary action, the warden granted approval for visitation the other day. Another week in the SHU and he'll be returning to his humble abode — no pun intended.
He finished his count at thirty-five because he didn't want to get too sweaty being that he was without shower privileges for another week. He grabbed his shirt and wiped his face before laying his long and toned body down on the steel cot that was covered by a thin pad. West wouldn't dare call it a mattress. He sighed and interlocked his hands behind his head, letting his mind race. He thought about his grandparents, his parents, and most importantly, his life before this mess he was currently in.
Before Xavier became "Xavier West the serial killer," he actually had a life. He was the proud owner of the hottest night club and steakhouse restaurant in the state of New Jersey. It was three stories, with the restaurant on the first, the club on the second, and the strip club on the very top floor. When you drive by, you can see the strippers dancing while the fluorescent lights bounce off the wall. Nobody knew West owned the club but his grandparents because they were rich, and by rich I mean owning gas and oil rich. They funded half, while West did the rest by himself.
West decided to keep his ownership of the establishment a secret because he didn't want to be a target. Being known and rich makes you a target because you aren't sure you can trust those around you. West didn't have time for fakery built on jealously, hatred, or greed. He is, or was, the type to make his money and lay low. He didn't bother with too many women because he actually wanted the whole black love fairytale ending — kids, marriage, beautiful wife, success, and happiness. With his current predicament, he didn't think that dream was going to happen no matter how hard he daydreamed or created scenarios in his head.
That would only make him upset because he knew they were never going to happen.
He blew out a breath and said a silent prayer, asking for this nightmare to be over, before closing his eyes.
Upstairs, Sonni, along with Emani and a few other guards and officers, were standing in the dining room, or as the inmates would say, the chow hall. It was the middle of the day, which meant it was dinner time. The inmates all filed in line with their trays and moved within the line as the cooks served the food. It was Tuesday, meaning it was taco Tuesday, another sad ass attempt by the prison.
Sonni made her rounds around the dining hall as the inmates ate. Anderson was staring at her, so she mugged him and kept it moving.
"Buchanan! You gotta take a tray down to the inmate in the SHU." One of the guards that were above her gave her an order, and she obeyed.
Grabbing the covered tray, Sonni positioned it on the cart and made her way out of the hall. She swiped her ID for the service elevator and hoped on to go down to the basement. It's been a week since she's laid eyes on or talked to West, being that it's been other guards taking his food down, and Sonni wasn't sure how she was going to act or feel. Since he revealed his secret, West has been on her mind more than usual.
