04. riots

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C H A P T E R  4

❛ riots. ❜

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 MILO

    HE TURNED AROUND ON THE BUNK BED, the thing creaked loudly, like a ghost calling out through the empty halls of a castle but Milo barely heard it anymore. It was just one of the many haunting sounds he'd grown used to. He folded his arm under his head while staring at the bunk bed above him. Another day in this horrible, gray and grim building. After another night plagued by nightmares of his fallen friends and the blood that was staining his hands bright red. Even after all these months he still wasn't comfortable with what he'd done. In fact, he didn't think he ever would be and a small part of him was glad he wasn't comfortable taking someone's life. But another part of him just wanted the nightmares to end. He wanted the guilt to end, the endless visions of Marcus falling to the ground because of the bullet he put in his head. It was torturing him and he wanted it gone.

Being in this prison didn't help him either. Everyone either avoided each other, or fought over the smallest of things. The constant tension in the air was exhausting, no matter how hard he tried to keep his head down. But he knew he deserved to be here. Taking another man's life, no matter how cruel said man had been, was something he deserved to be punished for. He didn't disagree with the law, but that didn't mean he had to like it either.

Luckily it wasn't all bad. He'd been able to get a job in the kitchen together with a few other inmates. They weren't in for such a heavy crime as he was but they had accepted him without question. The few hours he got to spend in the kitchen were the only thing getting him through his sentence. It gave a feeling of normality in a life that had seemed to turn so gray.

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