Hi! Before reading this fic, I'd like to explain a few things first. So if you're the sort who doesn't tend to read the authors note, could you please just take a second to read this? Thanks.

So, as I said in the summary (which I fail at by the way) this chapter (and the rest of the story) is based off the album 'The Defamation of Strickland Banks' by Plan B. If you've never heard of either of those then here's a little bit of basic info for you:

Plan B is a British singer/rapper and 'The Defamation of Strickland Banks' is his second album. All of the songs on the album bar 2 tell the story of Strickland Banks, a soul singer who is sent to prison for a crime he didn't commit.

So, this fic is basically a retelling of that album, with Kingdom Hearts characters and more detail and a few changes and improvisations. I hope you like it! ^_^

But wait! I have more to say!

This chapter (based on the song Prayin') is NOT the first in the series! As I'm writing this in order of the songs on the album, and this is one of the songs closer to the end, this chapter is not the real beginning. The next update for this is going to be the real start of the story (it's going to be called Love Goes Down), and after that it will go on in the correct order and will one day catch up with this chapter and everything will make sense! Sorry if that's really confusing, and I know it's a stupid way of doing this, but I was originally going to just make this a one shot, but then changed my mind and decided to make it a series. But by that point I'd almost finished writing it and I didn't just want to leave this chapter doing nothing for ages while I wrote up the rest of the story. So I'm posting it anyway. Please keep reading, it's a really nice concept (I'm not boasting, it wasn't my idea) and it will make sense in the end, but bear in mind this is NOT THE REAL BEGINNING!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or The Defamation Of Strickland Banks, but that was obvious enough already wasn't it?

He was curled up tightly in the corner, bony fingers gripping his back, thin arms providing minimal comfort. Sunken eyes slowly opened, revealing dull blue hues.

He ran a ghostly hand through his dirty blonde spikes and fought not to cry. He was so close.

After blinking away the few remaining tears, he laced his hands together and brought them close to his mouth. He closed his eyes and began to furiously whisper his prayers. Every day he prayed. Prayed that it would be different. Prayed that he wouldn't be hurt today. He never believed that that wish would ever come true, so backed it up by praying that it wouldn't hurt too much.

He disconnected his grimy fingers from each other and wrapped them round his torso again. It wasn't intentional, just an annoying reflex he'd picked up from living in a cell for so long. He wasn't even sure why he did it; maybe he wanted support, maybe comfort, maybe to make him feel less lonely. But he suspected it was because he missed human touch. Specifically friendly touch. He'd suffered far too much violence, too many fists to the face, kicks to the stomach. He needed soft hands, a friend, a lover.

Once bright blue eyes scanned the dim cell, flicking from left to right and up to down, checking and double checking that there was no-one there. Again, he didn't understand the point; of course there wouldn't be anyone in his cell but him, though he still found himself endlessly checking for any intruders.

Finding no threats, as usual, he crept over to his unused bed. Glancing towards the door once again, he chewed on his bottom lip, easily drawing blood. Wiping the offending liquid away with his tongue, he eased himself under the bed.

It was getting easier, he noticed, to hide himself beneath the bed. When he first tried he could barely fit himself under it, and it provided a pretty uncomfortable experience for him. Now he could slide right under it, with plenty of room to spare. He guessed he had gotten a little thinner since he'd been sent down.

Again he glanced around, which, again, he thought was ridiculous, even more so given that he was under his own bed; who else would be mad enough to hide under a bed but him?

It was dark down there, not much darker compared to the rest of the gloomy cell, but enough to make it hard for him to find his most prized possession. Well, his most useful tool, at least. It was something he wouldn't dream of using back at home, had he known a few years ago that he would be pleased to own one, he would've been horrified. But, as he often liked to reason with himself, desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, he wasn't the same naive kid he was back then.

He felt around in the dark for a moment before his hands came to rest on his prize. Cradling his shiv [1], he wondered if he'd ever be able to bring himself to use it. It had cost him an awful lot of cigarettes to get it, much more than he expected, he had hardly any left over, which was just plain annoying, what else was he supposed to do with his time? It wasn't even that impressive, just a shard of glass with a makeshift cloth handle. It really wasn't worth the cigarettes, but he couldn't take it back, he'd pay very dearly for messing the market guys around, they had no love for indecisive customers. Even so, he knew it wasn't the worst shiv on offer; there had been a few there that were just rocks, admittedly pointy rocks, but just rocks all the same. There was even a toothbrush with the top section snapped off and sharpened to quite a vicious looking point. He was surprised to discover that the toothbrush would've been more expensive than his own piece of glass.

A shiv was a good thing to own in a place like this, he'd been told. He figured out what to do with it, but he still wasn't sure if he could ever actually use it. Too many times had the image of the glistening glass plunging into flesh haunted his nightmares.

He just wasn't that sort of person. He wasn't like everyone else there. He was Roxas Banks, a soul singer and rapper, incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit, a man losing himself to the madness of prison life.

He placed the weapon back on the floor and backed out from under the bed. He stood, turning away from the bed, trying not to think about the shiv that lay beneath it. He knew he couldn't use it, the thought of killing made him sick. No matter how hard it got, he would never be able to justify it. Maybe that made him a coward, but he didn't care, it wasn't like he had much of any pride left in him. He just couldn't push his morals away like every other inmate there. It wasn't who he was.

He pushed the cell door open and began to wander through the halls, trying to remember where the room with the TV was. [2]

Of course, this was all just a pretence, he wanted to be found, he wanted it to be over for one day. He was used to giving himself up for it, it made the rest of his day a lot simpler. Roxas wasn't the only one who got picked on there; he'd seen it happen to others as well, which did relieve him, though not by much. Roxas was far and away the most abused inmate in the Twilight Town prison. And everyone seemed to know it. He always got stared at, wherever he went, though he wasn't always sure if it was because of how hated he was or because he hardly ever came out of his cell and people just felt a little bit shocked by his appearances.

He didn't understand what they had against him, what had he ever done to them? He didn't like being there, so he kept himself to himself, was that such a crime? Other people did it too, and they didn't have to put up with half the shit that he did. He never complained though. What would be the point, he thought. He had no-one to talk to, no-one who'd care. And complaining wouldn't fix anything, nah, probably just make it worse. So what if it wasn't fair? Roxas was getting used to things not being fair, he hadn't seen much fairness at all in the past months, and he knew that it wouldn't just pop up in prison, of all places. If life was fair, he wouldn't even be there. So there was no point in complaining about it. He just had to keep his head up and endure it, which was exactly what he was doing.

Not that it helped at all.

"Well look who it is."

If he didn't know what was going to happen next, Roxas would've smiled. He was getting better at 'accidentally' running into them. He turned to face the tyrants.

As usual, there was Riku. Standing tall in the front, Riku gave him a sick, hungry looking grin. Roxas tried his best not to respond but he couldn't help his lip curling at the sight of Riku.

Riku had been his constant tormentor from day one. Roxas had never understood why it had to be him, but it was. Riku had taken against him for no apparent reason, and he was suffering for it. Nearly every day, Riku would seek Roxas out and beat the crap out of him. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a big group, it all led to the same thing; Roxas, left bloodied and faint to crawl back to his cell with his tail between his legs.

This was what led to the purchase of the shiv. Roxas had decided that enough was enough, he was going to make Riku leave him the hell alone, and if it was a shiv that would do it, a shiv he would get. So after months of saving up his cigarettes, Roxas finally got his shiv. That was several months ago, and still the shiv sat under his bed, unused, collecting dust. He just couldn't use it.

After realising that his hard earned shiv was useless, Roxas had adopted a new tactic to battle Riku. It was called Acceptance. Roxas had woken up and realised that there was nothing left for him to do to make it stop. So instead he decided to let them do what they wanted with him. He knew Riku would beat him either way, so he went out there and let him, even going as far as to trying to find him first. At least if he found him, Riku and his thugs wouldn't come after him later. He could go up to them, let them do what they did best, and then return to his cell and have the rest of the day free to recuperate. It was an easy system, and it worked well for both Roxas and Riku.

That didn't stop Roxas from hating the sight of Riku's disgusting face and wanting to smash his head in.

"Out for a little stroll are we, Roxas? On the prowl for any sweet little girls to force your dick into?" The rest of Riku's muscle men laughed as their leader leaned in and held onto Roxas' chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You do realise this is an all-men's prison, don'tcha Roxas? Or maybe you swing both ways, huh freak?"

Roxas had never been very good at keeping his cool, and Riku made it even harder. He just couldn't stop himself angrily spitting in Riku's smug, far too close face.

The older man recoiled, disgusted. His cronies rushed forward; Roxas saw the incoming fist, but he didn't try to block it. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, then waited for the impact.

He didn't have to wait long. In just a matter of seconds, the entire right side of his face exploded in pain. He gasped as his legs buckled beneath him, sending him face first onto the ground.

He was suddenly yanked up by the arm, which was he was certain was about to pop right out of its socket. Through his teary vision he could just make out Riku striding forwards, then there was a flurry of punches unleashed upon his gut. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as he felt himself drop to the floor yet again.

After that Roxas couldn't really see what was happening, though he could feel every punch and kick, over and over again. It was after the fourth kick in the head that he finally passed out.

When Roxas woke up, the corridor was empty. He retched. Blood sprayed out of his mouth. He tried to stand, but he was shaking too much, he could barely lift his head off the ground. The stench of blood was almost overwhelming, Roxas had to use all of his power not to puke.

Every one of his bones ached, and his head was pounding like a jackhammer. Yet again his vision began to blur.

"Shit." He mumbled. He wasn't sure how much more of it he could take. The longer he endured it without taking action, the worse it was going to get. If he didn't act soon he'd die.

Lying on the bloodied prison floor, he felt his lips pull up in an evil-looking smirk. He spit a thin line of blood through his teeth. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to take his shiv and stab it through Riku's black heart. Morals didn't matter anymore, it was kill or be killed.

And Roxas wasn't going to let cowardice be his death sentence.

He was back under the bed again, staring at the fragment of glass in his hands. He'd started shaking at the prospect of actually using the shiv to hurt someone, even if it was Riku. He still wasn't sure if he had the balls to do it. It was all well and good thinking about it 'I'm gonna kill that bastard', but actually following through, that was a whole different ball game. And Roxas sucked at any kind of ball sport.

Still, maybe he wouldn't have to use it. Maybe just flashing it would be enough to show Riku he wasn't as weak as he thought. He never had to find out that he was terrified of actually using it, just so long as it worked. If the shiv alone didn't faze Riku, well…hopefully Roxas would be angry enough to drop his morals, even if only for a second. Everything could change in one second.

He nodded to himself, pleased with his plan. He slid the shiv into his jeans pocket and got out from under the bed. Feeling confident for the first time since he'd arrived in prison, Roxas yanked open the door a bit too vigorously, sending it crashing into the wall. He winced slightly at the volley of curses he got in return from the surrounding cells. Very carefully he closed the door behind him and walked towards the canteen, head down, hands in pockets, shiv squeezed tightly in his palm.

"Roxas? What the hell are you doing here?"

Roxas had been slowly spooning dry cereal into his mouth, wondering simultaneously why it tasted so weird and how long it had been since he'd last been brave enough to get breakfast, when Demyx flopped down on the bench next to him.

Demyx was the closest thing to a friend Roxas had in prison, though they didn't see each other too often, thanks to Roxas' slightly - by which I mean very - reclusive method of handling prison life. Still, Demyx was always nice enough to make conversation with him, and he hadn't punched him once, which made him a pretty good man in Roxas' book. He shrugged in response to Demyx's utterly horrified reaction to his presence at the breakfast table.

"Dude, you're eating breakfast? For real? I've seen you eat breakfast, what? Once? Twice? Three times at the most for the entire time you've been here. Why the change of heart? I always thought you had some sort of eating disorder, or had a religion that didn't let you eat breakfast."

Roxas sighed and shook his head. He lifted the spoon in front of his face, examining the little pieces of cereal on it, still trying to work out why they didn't taste the way he remembered them.

"I guess I'm just not much of a breakfast person." He decided to leave out the little detail about being too fucking scared to even leave his cell in the morning for fear of Riku. Also how the only reason he'd even shown up on that day was because of his little friend the shiv just seemed to slip Roxas' mind completely. "And for the record, I don't think there's any religion that bans its followers from eating breakfast."

Demyx shrugged before examining his younger friend between narrowed eyes.

"You know, Roxas, I think you should start eating breakfast everyday from now on."

Roxas turned to face Demyx, one blonde eyebrow raised.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because I reckon that I could stab that spoon through your stomach and it would fall out the other side, you're so thin."

Roxas placed his spoon down on the table and pushed it away from Demyx.

"As fun as that sounds, I'd prefer it if you didn't, and I wish you'd stop telling me I'm thin 'coz I'm really not."

"Dude, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Roxas' brow furrowed in confusion. "No, why?"

"Because you'd probably never see yourself!"

Roxas responded with a glare. He was getting tired with all these 'thin' comments. He understood that he was a little underweight but Demyx reminded him way too often, and it was starting to piss him off.

"Let's see how far the spoon can go into your stomach."

Demyx laughed, but, seeing Roxas' serious expression, soon quieted.

"Look, man, I only say this 'coz I'm worried for you. When I see you I'm afraid that you'll just snap in half if I so much as touch you. You can't go on much longer like this," He lowered his voice and leaned in close, "And I know that Riku's really been going all out on you, if you let this keep going and don't put on any weight," He gulped and looked Roxas straight in the eye, in a tone that made Roxas understand that he was completely serious, "You're gonna die, Roxas. Pretty soon too, by the looks of you."

For a long moment, neither one said anything. Suddenly the shiv in Roxas pocket seemed more important than ever. He was going to have to be really serious about this; he might even have to go as far as killing Riku, if that's what it took. For his own safety more than anything, and so Demyx would stop worrying. It was clear that Riku didn't care if Roxas died, seeing as he kept on abusing him, even in his fragile state of body. So something had to be done. Roxas could feel his hand curling around the dormant shiv in his pocket even as he thought it.

The thought-leaden silence was soon broken by Demyx.

"You know you're supposed to put milk on your cereal before eating it."

Roxas' mouth dropped. How could he have been so stupid? It hadn't been that long since he last had cereal, had it? Maybe. Still, forgetting the milk, that was bad, even for him. He grabbed the nearest milk jug and poured nearly the whole thing out over the cereal, spilling it everywhere from the overflown bowl. He plunged his spoon into the bowl, scooping out as many little shapes as he could before stuffing the food down his throat. He nearly threw back his head in joy.

Oh sweet cereal! How I've missed you!

Demyx just looked on and laughed, glad that Roxas was happy for a change.

"If you do that to your cereal every day, you'll look like a human again in no time!"

Then Demyx found himself under the wrath of Roxas' death glare once again, and came pretty close to puking up his own breakfast as the spoon was stabbed visciously into his stomach.

Roxas was wandering around the halls, waiting for Riku to show. It was taking a surprisingly long time, it always seemed to Roxas that Riku could smell him from a mile off; hence why he always seemed to know where he was. But he'd been at it for nearly half an hour by that point, pissing Roxas off more than a little bit. The guy had been his personal hell for months, beating him senseless day after day, and the one time Roxas actually wanted him to show up? Nothing. It seemed that Riku didn't even have the decency to show his face for his own death. Bastard.

"Oh, it's you again."

Roxas turned and almost puked from happiness. [3] Or maybe it was just the sick feeling that he was about to possibly kill someone.

Riku was alone, making his task a lot easier. He'd feel more threatened if he didn't have any backup. Hopefully.

"Hey Riku."

Riku faltered for a second. He hadn't expected anything akin to confidence. Speaking was definitely a confident thing to do, for Roxas anyway. The kid was always too scared to even open his mouth to scream, save for the first few times. Why the sudden use of the voice box? It didn't look good from any angle, but Riku would be damned if he let it show that it bothered him.

"Good to see you again Roxas. God, you're early today, I don't even have my boys around to join in the fun. Oh well, all the more for me."

To Riku's surprise, Roxas' reply to that was just a slightly cocky laugh.

"Geez, Riku, that line could so easily be seen as a sexual thing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were about to rape me rather than beat me up. Funny how things can be taken, huh?"

Riku made a snap judgement that he definitely didn't like Roxas talking. Had he always been that arrogant or was it a new thing? Either way, it was going to have to stop. And Riku knew only one method to get people to come round to his way of thinking; with his fist.

Roxas reached slowly into his pocket, keeping his eyes on Riku the whole time, watching in amusement as his expression slowly changed from disbelief to rage.

He was still in the middle of sliding the shiv out of his pocket when Riku's fist connected with his face. Roxas went flying backwards into the wall, nearly crying out in pain and annoyance as his head smashed into the concrete behind. He barely had time to stand back up, let alone grab his shiv, when Riku was towering over him, aquamarine eyes blazing with hate. Roxas could feel all the blood run from his face as he saw Riku's knee rushing towards his head.

He gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming as his head smacked into the wall for the second time in less than a minute. But Riku had no intention of stopping at one attack, oh no. No sooner had his knee left Roxas' face it was coming back again, twice as hard. Roxas couldn't help but let out a wail of agony. Then he tried his best to block the pain out as his head was sent bouncing back into the wall again and again, each time harder than the last.

Eventually Riku stopped, hunching over, trying to get his breath back from his overly energetic style of attack. Then he turned away, making some sort of stupid boast about how well he kicked Roxas' ass. Roxas didn't care, he didn't listen, but he had to admit that Riku had beaten him good this time. The room was still shaking; his eyes hadn't managed to refocus yet. Roxas felt a warm trickle of blood run down his face, straight into his eyes.

He wasn't sure if it was his common sense telling him it was a good opportunity to surprise his enemy, or if he was just pissed off and seeing red, literally. Either way, he found himself unconsciously grabbing his shiv and, quick as lightning, plunging it as far as it would go into the back of Riku's leg, just above the ankle.

Riku, caught by surprise, screamed in pain as the glass cut into his leg. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. Seeing the chance to finish him, Roxas leapt forward, yanking the shiv out of his leg. This elicited another cry from Riku, but just as he was about to stab his tormentor for a second time, Roxas conscience caught up with him again.

Shit, not now, please, please not now.

Already it was too late. His morals were back in place and he knew he couldn't actually finish Riku off, even if he was the biggest prick he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. His hand was shaking, the shiv dancing between his sweaty palm. He wouldn't be able to stab him even if he tried. It was all over.

Noticing his hesitation, Riku spun around, jumping straight on top of Roxas. Roxas struggled, but Riku was far too heavy and Roxas didn't have the upper body strength to move at all under Riku's weight. Riku grabbed his hand, wrenching his shiv painfully out of his grasp. He examined the shard of glass, now stained ruby red.

"Didn't think you had it in you Roxas, I really didn't." He slowly brought the shiv to Roxas' neck. "See I normally buy the more expensive, good quality shivs, I didn't realise that these shit ones could actually still quite hurt."

"Well I'll be damned." Despite death literally hanging over him, Roxas still had enough adrenaline left over to be sarcastic. "You don't happen to have one of those razor toothbrushes do you? Now that sure would be a nice way to die."

Riku spat in a way that seemed strangely familiar to Roxas.

"You don't deserve a nice way to die. You're going to die by your own shiv, this tiny little piece of glass. I've always wondered how effective the cheap shivs could be, might as well test it while I can."

"I think you already know how effective it is, Riku. How's your leg?"

"Shut up!" He growled, pushing the weapon closer to his neck. Roxas felt the first trickle of warm blood flow freely downwards. "That's just a tender spot; it has nothing to do with the quality of your shiv!"

"Ooh, did I strike a nerve there? Both literally and figuratively, though I'm now wondering if you know what either of those words mean."

"I've had it with you! Say goodbye to life you little bastard!"

He raised the shiv again, but just as he was about to finish Roxas for good, he was gone. Roxas blinked a few times, just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. But Riku definitely wasn't sitting on top of him anymore.

Finally able to move, Roxas dragged himself to his feet, clinging helplessly to the wall for support. Then he heard Riku screaming.

Wiping the blood out of his eyes, he was actually able to see the scene properly for the first time.

Riku was lying on the floor, multiple holes in his chest; a pool of blood growing around him. His mouth hung open, slack and useless, and his eyes had lost all traces of life, even the deep set anger that always seemed to be present in his turquoise irises was gone. Riku was dead at last.

Standing above him was the killer, smoking gun in hand. Roxas didn't recognize him, maybe he was new. The stranger was tall and thin, with bright red hair, complimenting the excess of blood that stained the room. He looked like some sort of devil, a demon at the very least, who'd come up from the pits of hell to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting surface dwellers. Or maybe he was just looking into it too hard. Running a hand through said flaming locks, the man turned to Roxas.

Shit shit shit, please don't kill me too!

Cold emerald coloured eyes looked Roxas up and down, taking in his pathetic, shaking form, noticing how easy it would be to take him down in one hit. Then he grinned and gave the boy a thumbs up.

"There, now he won't bother you anymore!"

Roxas blinked, dumbfounded. Was that guy for real? How could he smile after just killing a man? Why did he bother saving him? What the hell was up with those stupid tattoos under his eyes?

The man walked over to Roxas, draping a hand around his shaking shoulders.

"Don't sweat it, man; I'll take the blame for you."

Roxas looked up at him, confused. "But you're the one who killed him."

"I'm pretty sure we both played a part in killing him, or did you forget about stabbing him in the leg?"

Roxas blinked, again. "How long were you watching anyway?"

The man tapped his nose with one long finger. "Long enough. But see if you hadn't weakened him like that I don't think I would've been able to finish him, even though I had the element of surprise. So I guess I should really be thanking you. The name's Axel by the way."

"Roxas. But I don't understand; why'd you save me?"

"I couldn't just stand there and let him kill you, besides; the prick was getting too big for his boots, so I brought him down a peg or two."

"By shooting him?"

"Hey, it works out fine for you doesn't it? And I'm still offering to take the blame for this whole mess for you. Throw me a bone here, will ya?"

"Yeah, sorry why exactly are you doing all this for me?"

Axel shrugged. "I'm in here for life anyway. How about you?"

Roxas looked at his bloodied shoes. "5." He couldn't stand being in there for so long, it made him wonder how much worse it would be staying for life. He didn't really want to know.

"Then I'll take the blame."

"…Thanks." He knew there was no point arguing, and he definitely didn't want his time extended, so he'd have to go along with it.

"Someone's gonna show up soon, you'd better run."

"I can't just leave you like this, it isn't fair."

"Life's not fair, kid, but you might as well get another chance at it. I don't see the point personally but we all have our ways. Now go, don't feel ashamed."

Swallowing his morals yet again, Roxas gave a little nod and turned the other way. Then he felt Axel's hand on his shoulder. He turned back, looking into his intensely green eyes. For a second he thought he was staring at a demon again, but it was clear that Axel had God in his heart, and no mistake.

"I mean it, don't be ashamed of what you've done or I'll come back and shoot you myself." He patted his temple with one finger. "Got it memorized?"

Despite his overwhelming guilt at leaving Axel to take the blame, Roxas found himself smiling. "I will."

Then he turned again, and ran as fast as he could away from the scene, hoping to never see it again.

Once again, Roxas was sitting under his bed, arms wrapped around him. This time he didn't have his shiv, he'd left it behind with Riku's corpse.

He hadn't expected to still be hiding from the world after his main threat was gone. He wouldn't have to be afraid anymore, things would be okay.

But now he was left with nothing but guilt. How could he be expected to live his life with the weight of a dead man on his shoulders? Plus leaving Axel behind to suffer the consequences didn't help matters at all. He'd always thought he was better than that, he always believed he had the honour to own up for the things he'd done. It was clear now that he was nothing but a coward and a deserter. Even though Axel told him to go, he shouldn't have listened. What was the point of having another chance at life when that life would only be filled with hurt and guilt and wounded pride?

He put his hands together.

Oh Lord above, if I just killed a man, why did somebody have to take the blame? I'm praying, please; take away these sins clouding my brain. I know what he said; "Go right now, don't feel ashamed." But oh Lord I do that's why I'm praying.

Please Lord, help me.

A tear slid down his face and splashed onto the floor, echoing around the lonely room.

I'm pleading with you.

He curled into a tight ball, tears streaming down his face.

Forgive me.

Thanks for reading! Next update (the real chapter 1) soon hopefully and if you haven't already read the authors note at the top then PLEASE GO AND READ IT! It's very important. If you've already read it then well done!

[1] Quoting Wikipedia: 'A shiv is a slang term for any sharp or pointed implement used as a knife-like weapon, made from metal. However, the word in practical usage is frequently used when referring to an improvised bladed weapon. Shivs are commonly made by inmates in prisons across the world. A shiv can be anything from a glass shard with fabric wrapped around one end to form a handle, to a razorblade stuck in the end of a toothbrush. Some inmates have even sharpened the ends of pork chop bones to make them into weapons.'

[2] As I've never been to prison, I'm not really sure if inmates are allowed to walk right out of their cells, but in this fic they can for convenience; also in the video for Prayin' (the song) there's a load of inmates in a room watching TV so I included it here.

[3] I'll love you forever if you got that reference to Soul Eater!