Heathens -Twenty One Pilots

Joshua William Dun

Tyler's POV

If I had ever thought my last cell was bad, I take it back, it was paradise compared to now. There, I had a bed, I had room to walk, even if I just paced, and I had Spooky. Here...wherever here is...I just have four metal walls and a concrete floor with a harsh white light coming from the ceiling which flickers every minute or so. Other than that, I just have silence. I have time. I have time to get lost in the endless maze of my own head. Time to remember the latest in a long line of my victims, his purple face...red neck...wide eyes still hanging open as I was dragged away from Spooky.

The only noise that ever breaks the endless silence is the footsteps of a passing patrol which passes every few minutes, even more often than I had grown used to, and I had already learnt their pattern.

They walk past on their patrol once...twice...then three times and on the third they offer me something to break the endless hours I've sat here and unbolt then slide back a small latch on the door to stare at me for a few moments before locking it up again and moving on.

There isn't a camera in my cell here, though, which I suppose helps a little, probably because no one has even the smallest chance of escaping the tiny room.

A dull ache comes from my ankle and I suddenly realise that I have once more picked up an old habit, scratching my skin until it's raw, I don't stop though. What would be the point?

My cheeks are sticky and red, my eyes puffy and tired and I want nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up again, but just sleep until I can either leave these walls and reclaim my freedom or until my lungs fill for the last time and the life floats from my body, granting my another form of the freedom which I yearn for.

But I can't sleep.

The cold floor and itchy jumpsuit keep me firmly within the metal box, and my mind won't fall silent, keeping me alert with thoughts of the years I still have to spend here...years like Spooky has spent here... thoughts of the blood that I will never wash off my hands....so much blood... so much pain... because of me...

I scream out in frustration, scaring myself and earning a bang on the door from a nearby guard but I barely notice as I curl on the floor of the empty cell and cry as if I'll never cry again, wailing for reasons unknown to even myself. Maybe it's for what I've lost, for my family, my home, maybe it's for what I've done, but that doesn't matter. Nothing does. Or that is how I feel now as tears burn my cheeks, refusing to dry up and strangled gasps burst from my lips, exploding from my lungs before I can even try to silence them. And I'm alone.

I am completely alone and no one is going to change that.

Josh's POV

My cell feels smaller and more frustrating than it has since I first arrived here. The metal bars only mean that I can't find Tyler, I can't even find out where he is. I haven't heard him mentioned and the lockdown which lasted all night after the raid meant I couldn't even ask other people.

There's still blood on my face and jumpsuit, I haven't slept, but I don't care about that. What those guards said has scared me...what if Tyler's...no...I can't think like that.

I've tried to find out where he is every way I can think of. No other inmates have seen him. no guards have mentioned him and I'm going out of my mind to try what I'm about to but what choice do I have?

I walk to the bars of my cell and grip onto them as I shout to grab the attention of the inmate who used to be next to Tyler.

Finally he notices me and replies.

"What do you want Spooky?" The beast of a man asks.

"Can you get a message to Gerard? He knows your name right?"