Hating The FBI -- Slap in the face --

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Chapter 18 –

            I sat staring into space. I was numb, even after my tenth day in prison I was still in shock. Things had moved pretty quickly after Neal and I had our fight, Peter knew that too much had been spilled in order to go back and save my ass. I knew that my luck was going to run out eventually but I just hoped I would fall over and break something, not end up in the place I feared and hated the most. I hated prison, it was my personal hell and I couldn’t understand why some people loved getting arrested and got to spend time here. Nut jobs. I looked at the cold cement wall in front of me and saw the marks of days in which people before me had done to count down their days. I didn’t see the point, I knew that I would be here for a long time and even if they did reduce my sentence for being good I was still looking at a good fifteen years. I was ultimately screwed, I always had a plan to save my ass but this time I just simply didn’t. I sighed and looked down at my orange clothing and wished that I hadn’t, orange was really not my colour and the suit was not exactly the most flattering thing in the world. I then looked around the small cell that I had to call home for the next chapter of my life and that made me feel even more depressed. I had managed to get a cell on my own and that was a luxury, I didn’t want the company of some woman who might have been off her nut to keep staring at me every five minutes, I just wanted to be alone in my own drowning sorrows. Mozzie had been my lawyer like he had promised and had given a good case in my favour and it may have helped reduce the time but even Mozzie knew that he couldn’t get me free the legal way, I was in way over my head and had too much history. I looked at the wall again remembering the way that Peter looked sad when they sentenced me and I could tell that he wanted to do something to help me. I also remembered Neal standing next to Peter and he looked heart broken, he knew that he was the main reason why I ended up here. He looked at me as I got my sentence and I could see the pain and sorrow in his eyes and I had just turned away. I felt hurt and betrayed by my own brother and he now didn’t have the decency to come and save me from my personal hell. He knew how much I feared prison and how much I never wanted to end up here yet he let me. I could feel the tears of anger rise up when I heard the familiar sounds of the guards footsteps coming down the hall passed the cells. I didn’t even look up as I knew that the guard always passed me, I didn’t want visitors. I was surprised when the footsteps suddenly stopped and I glanced up to see the female guard looking at me with no expression on her face, I wasn’t keen on the morning guard. The guard was a large woman who was well built and she had her cut short and pulled back into a small pony tail that didn’t seem worth the effort and never smiled.
“You have a visitor.” She stated and started to open up my cell.
“Is it my brother?” I asked and she shook her head. Neal had been trying to come and see me everyday but when I knew that it was him, I always refused to see him.
“Who is it?” I asked with some curiosity sparking and the guard refused to answer me. I sighed and heaved myself up from the bed and walked to the door of the cell and held out my hands ready for her to cuff them. Once she had done and shut the door behind me, I started the long walk down to the visiting area. My cell had been placed almost on the other side of the building where a lot of the con artists were stationed and it was typical that we would have to walk the furthest distance. I grimaced as I remembered my first day of moving in here, I had walked down the hall with my head hung low and I could hear the whispers from the other cell mates that had gotten caught over the years. I was well known in our world, so getting caught was a big deal and a huge embarrassment and I even recognised some of the other cell mates as I made my way into my cell. I could hear them calling to me wondering how and why I ended up here and how someone like me makes the fatal mistake of getting caught. The shouting went on all night long and I hated it, it made me feel weak and stupid and I cried all night long wanting it all to stop.

Hating The FBIOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora