ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
C H A P T E R F I V E
W E S T
I widened my eyes at the sight of the boy. The last time I saw him, it was rushed and he was eager to get the fuck out of this place. Something about him, this time, was different.
His hair was all messed up, his eyes looked dead; as if he'd been crying, his once lovely tattoos didn't seem to shine the way they did, and his posture was slumped. He didn't have that look of determination written on his face he had just minutes before, nor did he look like he had hope.
When I realized that he was wearing black; I understood why he looked that way.
The short lady's voice echoed in my mind.
He was going to die in less than three months.
"Why are you staring at Calum?" Michael scoffed, picking at his soup. I snapped my head towards the bleached blonde boy, Michael.
The boy now had a name.
Calum.
"I wasn't fucking staring, suck a dick." I retorted. Justice and Luke laughed at my defensive wall. Who did Michael think he was, calling me out like that?
"It was pretty obvious." Justice laughed, throwing her hands up in the air as if to defend herself. I groaned.
"Poor guy." Ashton muttered. I raised an eyebrow.
"What did he do?" I asked, curiously.
"What didn't he do?" Luke explained. It was as if Luke's eyes widened just at the thought of Calum.
"He's got the black suit, man. That's pretty rough." Ashton sighed, picking at his soup. I looked at Ashton's, and it was green.
"How long do you think he's got?" Justice asked, leaning back in her chair. Her suit was beige.
"I say a month, tops." Luke said. I turned to Michael.
"How do you know the boy? You just got here." I asked. Michael rolled his eyes, as if avoiding the question.
"He was my neighbour." Was all he said. Normally, I would want to push it; but I honestly didn't want to.
"Why is he sitting alone?" I asked, looking at Calum. He was just sitting there, not even eating. He was just staring at the bowl of the shitty soup and not moving. I normally feel no empathy, but I felt bad for the poor guy. Justice laughed.
"Why do you care so much?" She probed. "He isn't your problem." She took a sip of her soup, straight from the bowl; not even bothering to use a spoon. "This soup is really fucking disgusting."
"Besides, he just switched into the black suit. He probably needs time to think." Ashton pointed out. He pushed back his glasses which were falling down the bridge of his nose. "If you were to find out you were sentenced to death, you wouldn't exactly be happy-go-lucky, would you West?"
I thought about it. "I don't have to worry about dying here, cause I plan to get out." I shrugged. Suddenly, the whole table burst out into laughter.
"You can't leave! Don't you get it? They tell us we could leave after our sentence is over, but they lied! See that guy over there?" Ashton pointed to a guy with red hair and pale skin. He was wearing a dark green suit. I nodded. "He shoplifted, once. He's been here for six years. His sentence was for a month and a half."
"They try to find more reasons for you to stay. I was supposed to only be here for three months, but I took an extra spoon for dessert because the shitty plastic one broke and they sentenced me for another year. A fucking spoon." Justice groaned. "I should've been free last month."
"How the fuck are you guys able to stay here?" I questioned. "I've been here under two hours and I already want to ditch."
"We have no choice." Ashton said. "I rather be stuck here and alive, than dead." Everyone nodded in agreement. I could see where they were coming from; but that still didn't make this whole thing fucking okay.
I looked over at Calum who was just playing with his food, and an idea popped in my head.
"Well, I'm going." I stated, standing up.
"Going where?" Luke asked, raising his eyebrows. If you got past his annoying ass personality, he's an okay-looking guy.
"To sit with Calum."
"Are you absolutely insane?" Luke whisper-shouted. "If the guards even remotely see you with Calum, it's an instant bullseye on your back!" I scoffed. I wasn't scared of any guard here.
"That's nice. I've always wanted to be a target." I smiled, walking towards the table. I wasn't going to lie, this boy sort of intimidated me; but it's nothing I wasn't used to; especially in the drug business. I had to learn to stand tall and confident when dealing all types of drugs; or people would take avantage of me.
I couldn't let that happen.
I walked to the seat opposite of him, and sat down. I took my spoon and started to eat my soup, but recoiled when I realized that Justice was right. It was literally pure shit. It tasted like mushed up tomatoes and garlic.
"This soup is worse than my grandmothers cooking." I gagged, putting down the spoon. "Don't be fooled; that's pretty fucking terrible."
"You shouldn't be sitting here." He whispered, not looking up from his soup. His voice was hoarse and raspy. I looked over at the table where Michael and his friends were sitting. They were all staring at me.
"I shouldn't do a lot of things, yet, here I am." I stated, looking at the boy. Now that I was closer, I noticed that he had a really strong jawline, and he fiddled with his fingers. I noticed he had tattooed initials on his hand. "What does this stand for?" I pointed at the letters. He didn't even look up.
"It doesn't matter." He said quietly. "I suggest you leave this table before they put you in a black suit."
"I'm not scared of them." I scoffed. "Trust me, they're not going to do anything to me."
"Thats what they all say." He muttered, still not looking up.
"I'm serious."
"Alright." He stated, not looking up once. I noticed he didn't like to make eye-to-eye contact; and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
"Your neighbour Michael got in today." I said, hoping to change the topic and to get him to maybe lighten the fuck up. "At least, he told me he was your neighbour. Although I don't really believe anything he says, really."
His head shot up. "Clifford?" I raised my eyebrow.
"I think so. He's got bleached as fuck hair, and like a wannabe punk eyebrow piercing-"
"I-I've got to go." He stammered, getting up from the table and bolting to the door of the dining hall, leaving me alone at his table.
