Critical (Jamilton)

24. Uh, France?

Hamilton

The cell.

That stupid, smelly, moldy, cold, lonely cell.

Those concrete walls crawling with various insects crawling in the cracks, the shouting and laughing that he could hear from outside that turned out to just be an old noise machine that was reprogrammed. . .

Alexander missed none of it.

So when he opened his eyes to the same dripping noise, he was beyond confused and even more terrified. He looked around the room for any sign that Thomas was there, met with the same dirty place that he'd spent so much time in. He jumped off the bed, rushing around the small room, looking for something out of place that said he wasn't really there, but he couldn't find anything.

Okay, he thought, Just don't do anything stupid. Don't mouth off--

Almost as if he didn't have control over his mouth, he started screaming. He screamed for Thomas and he screamed for John and he screamed for anyone, anyone, to help him. He didn't stop until someone appeared in the doorway, sliding open the slot window to look in.

"Shut up!" King ordered.

Alex wanted to sit back down and just do what he was told because he knew how this would turn out, but his mouth betrayed him again.

"Let me out of here, you sick, twisted, British fuck!" Hamilton screamed.

The part that actually knew what was happening took full control. There was only one time that he'd ever called King that. Alex's hand clutched his side, right where the scar would have been.

King slammed the door open, storming inside and shutting the door behind him. He stared down Hamilton like a lion to its prey and Alexander knew right then that he was going to die.

He knew then, as his captor yanked him by the hair to the ground, that he was going to die in a stupid cell and he didn't even know where he was.

Alex knew better than to get back up, at least. He knew that if he were to get up, things would only get worse.

"Are you ready to be a good little prisoner, Hamilton?" King growled, leaning down to the floor to whisper in the man's ear.

He didn't answer. He just kept muttering under his breath that Thomas wasn't that far away. A week more of this, at most, and Alex would be back with everyone he loved.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you." Another kick to the stomach, just hard enough to feel the pain, but not hard enough to do any lethal damage. He didn't stop his muttering.

King, without any warning, yanked Alex up by his arm, pinning him to the wall and glaring daggers from just half a foot away from his face.

"I provide everything you need here, I expect a little respect," he growled.

Ham didn't say anything. Instead, he spit in King's face, which earned him the reminder that would last him a lifetime.

There wasn't a moment's notice before Alexander felt the metallic blade sink into his torso. He dropped to the floor clutching his side and gasping for air. King left, leaving Alexander to look at the blood coming from his already tattered shirt, dripping to the floor.

It only took a few seconds for Maria to run in. Hamilton remembered thinking of how she shouldn't be running, not while she was that far along. It wasn't good for her, her body, or her--