I'm Just A Killer For Your Love - A Gramon Story

Chapter 1

This story starts in a dark room. The dark room only had one small window and the walls were made of grey, crumbled stone. A few posters of elephants and African landscapes made it look a little less plain. Along the side stood a crackling bed with blue and red striped sheets. On this bed sat a middle-aged man wearing a simple T-shirt with holes in it. He held a burning cigarette between his dirty fingers, he hadn't wash himself in ages. The man stared with his blue eyes through the aperture in the wall. The outside. It was a long time ago he had been there. It was a long time he had even been outside his room. He knew he should do activities with the other guys but he didn't like that at all. It made him depressed. Although everything in the building he lived in made him depressed. His life was nothing at all, everything was ruined. If he could jump off a cliff and die he would definitely do that. He sighed and took a smoke from the cigarette he was holding. Smoking made him feel better.

The man saw himself in the mirror on the other side of the room. He looked horrible: his hair was scruffy, his beard way too long, he was getting chubby and his eyes didn't sparkle like they used to do a few years ago. His sleeping and eating schedule was very unhealthy though. He didn't care anyway, he had no reason to take care of himself. The sooner he died the better.

"Damon, you have to eat." Someone knocked at the man, who was called Damon, his door. He knew it was a prison guard, and he hated all the prison guards with a passion. Especially Smith, the one at the door. "Bring it inside." The guard opened the door, but he didn't have food with him, "No, you have to eat with the other men. It's good to keep social. Also, are you smoking? That's bad for your health." "I don't fucking care. And I'm not going to leave this room." Damon laid down on his bed. "I can use the hard method too if you don't come with me right now. Just a warning." Damon didn't say a word. Smith the jailer began to get annoyed. "This is the last time I say thi..." "OKAY, I'll come with you and eat my fucking dinner with all those fucking people in this fucking hell place." He stood up and followed Smith to the dining place.

The dining place was a huge hall with long tables and banks made of wood. In the middle was a bigger table where you had to get your food. The stuff they gave always tasted disgusting, and most of the time nobody knew what they where even eating. Damon shoveled some of the weird substance on his plate and went to sit down. The gunk was horrible as always, it was like you had cow shit mixed with mushrooms in your mouth. He tried his best not to puke. "Hey Damon, you look like a fucking hobo," a bald man called Eric said to him. Damon decided to ignore him. "You smell gross, and you're fat." Prison made people crazy, some of them got depressed, like Damon, and some of them began to act like fucking children again, like Eric. "I'm talking to you, fat arse! Are you deaf or something?" Some people around him started to giggle. This was exactly the reason why Damon rather ate in his room. The guys here always made fun of him for the weirdest things. When he was a kid people did that too, it was probably something in his personality. "You're fucking gay, you know that, Damon?" This was enough. Damon was very insecure about his sexuality and he absolutely hated it when someone called him gay. "What exactly did you just say?!" "Ohhh, I've hit his sensitive spot. I said: You're fucking gay." "Don't you dare to say that again!" Eric laughed. "Who stops me from doing it?" "You.. you fucking..." Then a hard beep sounded in the hall, the sign they had to pay attention for one of the jailers. "Okay, can you listen to me please?" Smith was talking. "I want to introduce you to our newest guard." He pointed at a man with dark hair and big, black glasses. "Yeah... Uhm.. Hi. I'm.. Graham Coxon and uhmm... I'm new here." Graham was a bit nervous. Damon thought he looked really cute, he couldn't be as bad as the other jailers. "Graham COCK son!" Eric screamed to the new bloke, who immediately turned red. Damon felt he had to stand up for Graham, he seemed nice and didn't deserve to be called like that. "Shut the fuck up, Eric, or I'll beat your nose up." "You? Beating ME up? You're a faggot Gaymon, and besides that; you're way too chunky to fight." "I bet you won't talk to me like that again when I've ruined your face!" Smith turned himself to them, "Damon and Eric! Stop fighting like that or you can both run 100 circles around the building!" Eric chuckled, "That would be good for that fat arse." "I'm not even that fat!" "STOP," Smith slammed his hand on the table. "This is the last time I warn you!" "Okay, Smith." "Good. Don't let it happen again." Smith walked away and Damon and Eric continued eating in silence.

After dinner Damon went to his room again. He plumped down on the crackly bed and grabbed his notebook and guitar, the only two things he had in his room. He loved to write songs, it made him feel less sad. His fingers stroked the snares of his guitar and began to form chords. He wrote some words down in his notebook, and soon the lyrics were made.

Where am I

And what am I doing here

And how it feels

How it feels to be

free

Yeah free

Feeling cold

Need a soul to be here

So alone

Why'd you even leave me?

Feeling cold

Do you even miss me?

Getting old

Why'd  you even kiss me?

Will you hold

my hand and do you miss me?

So alone

Just wish you were beside me

Feeling cold

How do you feel without me?

So alone

Did you forget about me?

Damon felt the need to cry, but then someone knocked on his door. He was a bit confused, it wasn't time to eat yet. "Who's there?" "Graham Coxon.." Damon put away his instrument and writing supplies. "Come in." "No.. I'd rather stay here because well... uhm.. you know.. you're a criminal" "I'm not dangerous! I swear!" "Are you sure?" "Yes! Trust me." "Okay then.." Graham sighed and walked in. "I uhmm.. I Wanted to thank you for defending me... I really appreciated it." Damon's face creased into a smile. "My pleasure. You seemed nice and you didn't deserve to get bullied." "That's so sweet. That guy also said some mean things about you." "Yeah, he's a fucking cunt." Graham laughed. "He is! And uhm... You're not fat though. I don't understand why he calls you that." "Me neither, he just wants something to make fun of, and because I'm a little bit chubby he says I'm fat. I don't care what he says anyway, nothing hurts me." Graham looked at him with an incredulous glance. "I don't believe that. You're not made of stone, aren't you?" "Sort of, this whole building is made of stone and the longer you're here the more you petrify." "Oh damn, I hope that doesn't happen to me." "It only happens to the prisoners, not to the jailers." "Phew, glad to hear that. How long have you been in here?" "401 days. That's 1 year, 1 month and 5 days." "That's long. How do you even know that?" Damon pointed at his wall, "I draw a stripe every day." "I thought only people in films did that." "Ha! Well, I do it too." "You're weird." Damon smirked. "I know." "Coxon! I need your help!" Smith shouted. Graham sighed. "Sorry Damon, but I have to go. I will come back later, I promise." "It's okay. Are we friends now?" "Yes, I guess? But I really should go now." "Good luck with Smith." "Thanks, haha. Bye!" "Bye!" Graham left the room, and Damon was alone again. He laid his head on the pillow and for the first time he felt a little bit happy, he made a friend.