Christian
Christian sighed as he lay back on the bottom of the bunk bed in his cell. It was almost time for the lights to go out.
"Hey! Kid! Psst!"
Christian frowned a little, and looked up toward the door.
A hand was waving through the bars.
"Yeah?" he murmured, laying down again.
"Old man Peterson's comin' for ya."
"Good for him."
"No, no, no... you don't understand Mister..." the voice insisted, "Peterson's gay man. He's gotten to everyone. And you're a newbie so he's comin' for ya."
"Great."
Christian rolled onto his side, the chain on his ankle clattering everytime he moved.
"S#i+ man, he's comin'!" the voice exclaimed, as Christian began to hear footsteps.
He kept his eyes open, training his ears on focusing where the footsteps were heading.
They stopped at his cell, and he heard keys rattling in the lock.
Without making a sound, he looked up as the lights were shut off. The guard stood maybe seven feet tall, and was of muscular build.
Sitting up, he squinted as the guard came in and closed the door behind him.
"And what do you want?" Christian demanded tiredly.
Peterson put the keys in a pocket, before making his way over to the bed.
"Your co-operation of course."
He reached under and grabbed Christian by the hair, dragging him out onto the floor. Christian yelled out, but contained himself when he was on the ground.
"F#!+ing hell..." he groaned, rolling his eyes.
He cringed as the guard pulled him up to his knees by the same means.
"Open your mouth," he ordered.
"Yeah right."
Christian was backhanded across the face, then grabbed around the throat.
"I ain't playin' now, son of the Eye. Open up."
Christian's jaw was forced open, but as soon as anything entered... his jaw snapped shut.
"F#!K! Holy F#!K!" the guard practically screamed, as Christian fell backwards, spitting blood.
"Gross..." he murmured, wishing he had a way to wash it out.
"Oh you are f$#!+ing asking for it," Peterson sneered.
Christian looked up when he heard movement.
The rock of the flooring was practically growing upwards, and beginning to wrap itself around him.
"Oh f#!+," he cussed, starting to back off.
It caught him and wrapped around his neck, before beginning to tighten. Noticing his handcuffs also tightening and being held in place, Christian gasped for breath as he was forced down onto his stomach.
"...And you're gonna f#!+ing get it."
Christian grunted trying to fight the rock.
"PETERSON!"
Christian froze as the guard stood.
"Man, you should know better," came the voice of the other guard on duty, "the kid's gold gold bars. Racer's gonna flip if he finds out."
"Well he ain't gonna find out."
The rock dissipated, and Christian coughed and gasped to get some air into his lungs.
"No one's gonna tell him," Peterson added.
"You f#!+ing sure about that?" Christian coughed.
He yelled out again as he was kicked in the stomach.
"Yes I am," Peterson growled, completely self-assured.
"Come on man, get out of there before the old man comes down," the other guard insisted, opening the door.
"I'll be back for you," Peterson insisted, pointing at Christian on the floor as he backed out of the cell.
Christian rolled onto his back as they closed the door behind them, his main thoughts involving how to redo his belt with his hands cuffed behind him.
The guards walked away, sliding their batons along the bars to wake up other prisoners.
"Hey, hey, man... uh... Christian?" came the voice again.
"What?" he demanded, not moving.
Silence.
"What?"
"Ah... nothing. Nevermind. But you got guts man."
Christian rolled his eyes, then looked up at the bed.