Murder The Moment [BoyXBoy]

.:6:.

After our short conversation, Vic and I ate dinner in silence. I say 'ate', but it was more like me awkwardly prodding my food with my spoon, due to my lack of appetite and aching jaw, and Vic hungrily stuffing his face.

After the designated hour (we got less time during breakfast, as the meal was generally smaller) the usual man called out for us to return to our rooms. I recognised him as Officer Wentz, but everyone just called him 'M'. I didn't know why – maybe it was the first letter of his name or just a stupid nickname.

All of us obeyed and parted ways. I scurried to my cell and speedily closed the door, relieved to be away from that huge mob of people, which always gave me unimaginable anxiety. I sighed as I collapsed onto the bed, knowing that I still had 5458 days left here. Yes, I count.

It was only 7 pm and surprisingly I wasn't feeling tired at all, which gave me more time to think about Vic. What was he doing? One minute he's scaring my ex-friend, the next he's ignoring me, then he acts like the nicest guy on the planet, even though he's probably a murderous psychopath.

His plan was probably to befriend me, make me comfortable with him, until he would inevitably strangle me in one of the bathrooms, with no one watching. Because what else would he want? Ashley left me as soon as he found out that I was a rapist, so why would he be nice as soon as he found out that I'm a rapist? This man was hard to figure out.

I still didn't know how Ashley could have found out about me anyway. That information was confidential and only the officers here knew about it, but they were not allowed to go around telling everyone. Maybe he heard one of my conversations? Or somehow my file was left out in the open for anyone to read? Or I talk in my sleep? That last one wasn't very likely though, as his cell was on the other end of the section to mine and I don't think I sleep talk.

I averted my gaze to the ground. My drawing from a couple of days ago was still there, mercilessly halved. I got up and placed both pieces on my small desk, before picking up my notebook and drawing for a couple of hours until I finally fell into a deep slumber.

The next morning I awoke to the soft sound of tapping. Tap... tap tap... tap... tap tap... It was not very loud, but loud enough for my ears to register it. I bit down on my lip, holding back a yawn. I felt the presence of someone in my room.

Hesitantly, I lifted my eyelids and slightly shifted on the bed, just to be greeted by an unusual view.

"What are you doing?"

Vic Fuentes was leaning against the door to my cell, drumming a mindless rhythm, on the metal, with his fingertips, while his other hand held my notebook.

His eyes averted from the book, to me, then back to the book, as if I wasn't even in the room.

"Your drawings are good," he commented, swiftly flipping to the next page and analysing it. I quickly sat up in bed, not enjoying the fact that he was seeing my works. Yes, I was proud of a few of them, but the others were quick and meaningless sketches.

"Who's this?" He flipped the book around so that I could see it and I was greeted by a drawing of Copeland, which I had done about a week ago.

"Give that back," I ordered, standing up from my previous spot. Vic gazed at me with that same amused look on his face, as if I was doing something entertaining. What was entertaining about demanding that he returns my book?

"Not until you tell me who she is," he smirked. I was not going to play his game and went forward to snatch the book out of his hands, but he lifted it up above our heads much like a parent would do to their child or an older sibling do to the younger. I was confused. What he trying to accomplish? – I was taller than him and could just reach for the book without a single problem. However, his plan became quite obvious. Yes, I was taller, but the only way for me to get the item was to come closer to him and we were both aware of the fact that I was not keen on doing so.