Athena's Court

Chapter 5

Jackal's head felt like it was going to explode.

He opened his eyes, but was met with gloom. To his right, a tiny window spread a minuscule beam of light across the room. Upright, rusty bars stood between him and a dimly lit hallway.

And then it dawned on him.

A cell.

He was locked up.

He tried to focus on his headache, demanding it to leave, but it stayed all the same. He groped around, feeling the squidgy surface of what appeared to be a dirty, soggy mattress.

A soft pitter-patter of rain outside filled the silence, a relaxing sound in bleak contrast with the current situation.

With every drop of rain, a memory seemed to flood in.

The failed break-in, the guard, the gun in his hands, Flak and Lash...

Jackal sprang up, crashing his head against something hard.

Fuck. Bunk bed.

Pain shot through his head again as his eyes filled with tears.

A horrible headache coupled with a horrific memory.

Something above him started stirring.

"So, you're finally awake," the disembodied voice of a man said, hoarse and guttural. "You were out for quite some time."

Jackal groaned, clutching his head.

"So what did you do? Theft? Drugs? Looked at a cop the wrong way? I've seen it all," the man continued.

Jackal opened one eye cautiously. The faint outline of a head looked down upon him from the upper bunk bed. His noodle-like hair hung down like tendrils, slender and threadlike. Darkness obscured most of his features, except for a weave of scars on the right of his face.

Jackal threw his feet over the side of the bed, looking down at the dirt-filled floor.

Balls of dust and dark stains covered the cell. A group of millipedes scuttled past Jackal, and a flock of thick, buzzing flies grouped around a pile of waste on the other side of the room. The smell of feces and compost reached Jackal as if carried by the flies searching for more garbage. Jackal averted his gaze, bile threatening to vent.

He needed to get out of here.

He looked up at the man. "Are we in Antwerp?"

"Yes. The police station in Antwerp, Oudaan to be more precise. The holding cell inside the station, to be even more precise. They brought you in yesterday."

"Fuck," Jackal whispered under his breath.

"I know it's a lot," the man said, head still hovering above Jackal. "Seen lots of people going insane after their first day. This is not helping, is it?"

Jackal let the silence speak for a few beats, closing his eyes. "Theft."

"Excuse me?"

"You asked me a question earlier. Theft. That's why I'm stuck here."

He breathed in deeply. The events from last evening kept replaying in his head, a morbid movie stuck on repeat, ending unchangeable.

He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

The man shuffled in his bed, his legs now dangling next to Jackal's head. "I get it. I've been caught stealing dozens of times. Far more than I can count. Got kicked in the face half of the time. The other half was getting beaten by a baton. Not the best of times, I have to say. But I had to, you know? Sometimes you have to make a choice. Starve to death or get beat up. Easy choice."