"Keep your head down, Donovan." Adam whispered feverishly. "You'll be scared, you'll want to look. Don't. The wheezers will get you and you won't want that to happen."

Donovan didn't need Adam to tell him twice. He had been scared shitless since coming into Furnace and had clung to his cellmate like baby koala. Thankfully, his cellmate, Adam, was a nice guy and helped him learn the ropes of the prison. Unfortunately, Adam couldn't do much in the face of a bloodwatch. He curled into a ball and tried to go to sleep. For the first time since he came to Furnace, the night was dead quiet. No sniffles, rustling of prison uniforms, or whispers to be heard. Then he heard the footsteps and the gentle wheeze of the horrible creatures. He put his head down on the bed, curious to find out what happened, but he wasn't going to find that today.

Donovan looked up when he heard a very familiar voice calling out to him.

"Mum?" he asked, surprised, already with tears in his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. I just didn't want him to hit you again. I didn't want you to be sad—" he heaved a huge sob.

"Carl, it's okay." she said, smiling down at him. "I'd been battling with depression for years. You getting thrown into Furnace…"

"It drove you to suicide." Donovan said with a steely edge to his voice, looking down at the floor.

"Yes, it did, but it was not your fault. I was the one who strung up the rope, not you."

"But I killed your boyfriend. I could have gotten into a facility that wasn't Furnace. I could have done so many things differently." Donovan didn't say the last part that he'd had in his head for a while: 'and you could have too.'

The memories flashed through Donovan's head again, clear as the day was bright: His mother's boyfriend was hitting her, again. He was hitting her harder this time, but then suddenly he stopped. He heard his mother sigh in relief and slump down onto their table, nursing her bruises. Donovan started toward her; he normally helped her to bed after the bastard finished beating her. Donovan heard footsteps thundering down the hall toward them and his mother's boyfriend was holding a butcher knife, clear on the intent to kill. Donovan didn't know who screamed first, him, his mother, or her boyfriend. All he knew that the knife came down, his mother rolled out of the way, the boyfriend lunged toward her, and the chase began. Donovan panicked, but not for long. He needed to protect his mother. As she clumsily lunged around the room, Donovan grabbed the nearest solid object; the ancient candelabrum on the table. He ran behind the bastard and swung down at his head as hard as he could. He went out like a lightbulb, but Donovan wouldn't quit. He needed that man to be gone. After the murder was done with, he turned around to see his mother sobbing.

"Carl…you're bloody."

"Mum, are you okay?"

She kept shaking her head over and over, and Donovan didn't object when the police were called. He didn't object to riding in the car, hands cuffed behind his back. He didn't object to the trials.

When he heard that his mother had committed suicide, he felt sad, but he also felt betrayed. He had killed; taken two lives for her, and for what? Everyone involved was going to rot in the ground. He'd felt the most terrible mix of depression and hate. On some days he couldn't forgive her; on others he couldn't forgive himself.

"Carl, that's all past." his mother said, seeming as though she'd read his thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm in prison now. I just fell asleep to my cellmate telling me to lay down and not look up. Why did you have to die?"

It was his mother's turn to look sad. "Carl, I just couldn't live anymore. It was selfish of me, but I took my own life." She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "Carl Donovan, now I have to ask you to live your life and end it better than I did mine."

Donovan looked forward, smiled briefly, and then sadly shook his head. "I can't die better than you did in Furnace, but I'll try to do something with my life here, I swear!"

His mother started to fade away, and Donovan put his head on the pillow, hoping to not hear the wake-up alarm too soon.

"Donovan, wake up mate." Adam was shaking him awake somewhat angrily.

"Yeah?" Donovan rubbed his eyes, confused.

"I told you to stay quiet during the bloodwatch last night, and what does Carl 'I don't talk in my sleep' Donovan do? You have an eight hour bloody conversation with your mother. I hope you're happy—you could have gotten us killed."

Donovan's eyes widened; he'd thought she was a ghost or an illusion. "Sorry man, must have been a bad dream."

Adam groaned then forced himself to smile. "Happens to the best of us. Come on now, we need to get to mess before everything gets eaten."

Donovan nodded, hopped off his bed, and got ready to start another day in Furnace.