Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Jake's POV -

I hang my head low, forcing myself to not turn around even though my heart is screaming for me to take one last look at her. The urge to see her beautiful face before I'm locked away again is too strong.

Walk away Jake.

I grit my teeth tightly and take my place in line, hearing the familiar buzz of the electric gates. My eyes briefly close for a second as I take the second to compose myself. When I open them, I mask my face over with a blank canvas, unreadable. In prison, you can't show your emotions, emotions signal weakness.

Weakness gets you killed.

Either that or you'd be hunted by a older prisoner who'd hold his pocket out for you to take a tight grip of...

"It gets easier."

I briefly turn my head, meeting eyes with Dodge. I've known him for years, the kid is always in and out of prison. We've been good friends for a while, having known each other since childhood. He's an arrogant and mouthy person who can talk himself out of any situation . . . besides prison.

"Leave it Dodge," I mumble, clearing my throat.

"Dude, for once in my life I'm being nice. My psychiatrist told me I have to show more empathy, you know?" He explains cheerily, standing right beside me. I peer at him from the corner of my eye before shaking my head.

"Is this you showing empathy?" I ask him, my eyes flashing with amusement. Dodge shrugs his shoulders, looking slightly confused and crazy at the same time —

"I think so, is it working?"

I laugh out loud, slapping him on the shoulder.

"You're a crazy motherfucker, you know that?" I grin and Dodge beams back at me, eyes flashing with humour.

"Why do you think the guards are so scared of me?" He laughs, his lips turning up into a sick smirk. We both begin walking in line to our cells, all of us in perfect unison. The walls are grey, the floors are grey, the ceiling is grey.

I've decided I hate the colour grey.

"I need to get the hell out of here," I mumble, running a hand over my face. One of the guards walking down the line scoffs, his face turning towards me.

"Good luck with that Melvin."

His words are quiet yet full of sarcasm. I instantly stop walking and so does Dodge, the both of us turning to shoot him an icy glare. Several other prisoners notice and they also stop, witnessing the scene.

"What did you just say?" I ask him, squaring my shoulders up defensively.

Rule number one of prison, never let the guards get away with anything. If they know you're weak, they target you like your forehead has been permanently tattooed with a big, red X.

"Back the hell up," the guard sneers, reaching for something in his back pocket. I scoff at him, giving him my best crazed glare.

"No good with your hands?" Dodge grins, his eyes turning a shade darker as he stares him down.

"Or do you always hide behind that uniform of yours?" I add, noticing how he's beginning to glance around nervously. He immediately masks over his features but it's too late by then, I've already seen the fear flash through his eyes.

"Problem here boys?"

My face turns to meet another guard a few feet away from us, a bigger one who hates my entire existence. I hold my hands up in surrender, stepping back in line.

"No." I say bluntly, staring straight ahead with a glazed over expression in my eyes. The last thing I need is another beating once my back is turned. Besides I promised Emily I'd stay out of trouble.

I always stick by my promises.

"Get in your cell Melvin," the guard snaps, grabbing hold of my arm roughly. He drags me out of line and down the corridor, his fingers digging into my skin.

"Locking me away from everyone else won't do anything for you." I tell him bluntly. He ignores me and pulls back my cell door before throwing me inside it. I stumble a little on my feet and curse, turning around to give him an icy stare.

His response is to snigger at me before slamming my cell door shut, the sound echoing around the small room. I sigh heavily and drop the mask, allowing my true emotions to unfold.

My hand reaches under my top and I instantly find the little photo, pulling it out. The anger burning inside me immediately dies down and I smile at the photo, my fingers clutching onto it tightly. I fear if I accidentally drop it, it would be lost or ruined forever.

"Hi baby," I whisper, sitting down onto the edge of my bed. The mattress is an inch thick, the springs inside poking out painfully. Most nights, I'd give up and lie on the cold floors instead, staring up at the ceiling. My possessions are non existent, the walls bare and cold. On the opposite side of the room I have my own toilet with a small sink next to it.

The nights are the hardest, when you can hear the cold winds howling outside. The nights are when your sanity is questioned, challenged to the very edge, threatening to break you.

The metal doors clanging shut is my least favourite sound, it confirms my prison status. The noise echoes inside my head for hours, almost as if the guards play the sound over and over again on speaker. It drives me crazy knowing I'm locked up like a caged animal, unable to roam freely.

When the guards leave, the silence begins. If you listen really carefully, you can hear the rustling of paper from the prisoners who choose to read in their free time. My free time is spent thinking about Emily, I close my eyes and picture her. My worst fear is forgetting certain things about her or being unable to picture her inside my thoughts.

Not having Emily beside me is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I've been through multiple gang fights, almost beaten to death. But overall, the most painful experience is knowing she's out there alone, without me to hold or protect her. I think about her every single second of every single day.

Lying in a cold cell, staring at the same four walls for hours on end causes your imagination to spark back to life. To kill time, I imagine the future, our future. I've thought about everything. . .

My fingers brush over the picture and I sigh heavily, letting my shoulders slump in defeat.

"I promise you, I'll get out of here, for you." I whisper, swallowing the thick lump of emotion in my throat. I lie down on my back, holding the picture in the air above my face.

"I never break my promises," I mumble, placing the photo down onto my chest. I close my eyes, a single tear sliding from the corner of my eye and down my cheek.