Hey guys. It's me, Mossface. I know I've been all over the place with my stories. I just wanted to let you know that I deleted Just Believe and am starting over with the same concept. I hope you all enjoy!
"So," says a deep, scratchy voice that matches the face I see in front of me perfectly. "You're the new guy."
I look him up and down a few times, sizing up the guy I'll be spending a lot of time with from then on out. He's tall; almost my hight. A pink scar travels across his flat face, reaching from one ear to the corner of his small mouth. I wonder what he did to earn that scar, but I don't ask because I know he'll tell me on his own soon enough.
"Yeah, that's me," I say making a sharp connection with his eyes as I look up.
For five minutes, we just stand there, sizing each other up. Every once in awhile, we'll make eye contact. He pushes his violent thoughts into my core while I can't muster anything but anger. Every time he meets my eyes, my anger is built up even higher than before. I want to think of the danger I could be putting myself into. This guy could be a dominant one, feeling as if everybody should bow down to him. Here I was, standing my ground and trying to make him back off first. All I can think of, though, is Mom. Mom and Dad and B.
A final time he looks at me, my concentrated anger seems to affect him. For the first time, I see fright in him. He covers it as soon as I notice, but it doesn't matter. In that split-second, I saw a scared deer trapped in the headlights of a delinquent's anger. He wants me to think he's tough, but in all reality, he's not. He's just like me; stuck in a place full of people that could easily end his life. We're one and the same.
I relax my shoulders and see him do the same. He knows he's been caught. In an easy manner, he says, "I'm Peter."
"Fitz," I respond. I turn my back on Peter, showing him that I trust him.
Trust. Such a fragile thing. Easy to break, too. Peter could hit my spine and mess up my body. He could go for my head. He could do anything, really, but I trust him. I wonder why I trust him but I didn't trust the guards that dumped me here, the same why I trusted B, but I didn't trust my parents.
Maybe I trust Peter because he understands me. He understands what it feels like being ripped roughly without a warning from the life you've always lived and dropped into a whole new game. He understands what it feels like to not know the new rules to follow in order to live. He understands how I feel and I didn't even have to try to explain.
"Peter," I begin, but feel my voice break off. Angrily, I slam my head against the wall I'd leaned up against some time in the process of showing him my trust. I jerk my neck up and down again and again and again. I feel skin breaking. A few drops of blood drop tauntingly slowly down my forehead, pooling on top of my eyebrows before they all tumble into my eyes, mingling with the salty tears that had formed when I called his name. Blinking them away, I slowly bring myself to a stop. Peter is barking something at me. I turn to him. He looks pissed. Finally, the pounding in my hears hushes and I can hear what he's saying.
"-the hell is the matter with you? You just got here and you're already hurting yourself! I mean, Christ! They're gonna think I did it, ya asshole!"
And then I laugh. I can't control myself.
"Fitz! Get ahold of yourself," He says, grabbing my shoulders. At first, I flinch away, not used to any kind of friendly touch. Then, just because it feels so damn comforting, I let my body fall against his. It feels right to have a friend like this. I cry and laugh for awhile. He laughs with me, slowly at first, and then big, full noises when he sees the reality of the situation. Two huge guys, who barely know each other, are laying with each other on the diseased floor of a jail cell, laughing and crying. If anybody sees us, they'll assume the worst.
"Peter," I finally start again when the oxygen in my lungs is back to a comfortable level. "Why are you here?"
He laughs a final time, slow and spaced out, before he looks at me. "Should I tell you?"
I don't know what to say, so I nod.
"It was a mistake. A gun went off and blew my girlfriend's brains out. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to. But then again, that's what they all say here, ya know? 'It's a mistake. Give me another chance.' What makes me any different?"
"I didn't make a mistake," I say quietly.
"What," He asks, not sure he heard me right, "are you saying?"
I take a deep breath, feeling the polluted air stream down my throat. It reminds me how thirsty I am. "I stabbed him on purpose. He deserved it."
And that concludes your teaser(: I hope you liked it. Please review, favorite, add to your alert list, whatever. I love you all and will try to have the actual first chapter up tomorrow!
-Mossface