A cold shiver went through Theodore Bagwell's body as he lied on his bottom berth in his cell. It was only early morning, but he was awoken by another terrible nightmare of his past. Always the same, nasty things over and over.

He turned onto his stomach and let out a quiet sigh. Actually he didn't want to go to sleep again. He was kind of excited for the day.

Another day in prison. Another day with his boys. Another day cuddling with John Abruzzi. Another day with quarrel. Another day of pain. Another day to make him wanting more to get out of that place.

And that was exactly what he was going to. He had heard about Pretty Boy Scofield's plan of escaping and he didn't want to be left behind by the others.

Oh that pretty face of his… he remembered the day Scofield arrived – how could he forget? Those cold eyes looking at him, as he tried having a nice conversation. He had really tried to make the pretty take his pocket and clearly remembered when he refused. Well, that was a screw-up.

Once they all would be across the wire and over the wall and Pretty could assure him, they were safe, he wanted to run away with Abruzzi. Just forgetting all about this prison thing. He knew John wanted the same. He hated it, too. He hated the trouble.

Yesterday evening a C.O. was killed and hell was loose. May be it was because the guard was a black guy – and a friend of Bellick, too. The guy was found in a depot near the prisoners' block with a shank driven into his neck. There had been blood everywhere, he was told. Of cause he didn't care. Should he care for a black guy? No way!

Several black prisoners had blamed him for the murder, at it hadn't looked good. Luckily Abruzzi had stood up for him and taken a punch.

Some time had passed when he suddenly heard shoes and keys rattle.

"Open up!" it sounded on the other side of the bars. T-Bag recognized the voice immediately – it was Brad Bellick.

The cell of the pedophile opened with a scratchy sound and almost sent T-Bag trough the upper berth in surprise. What was Bellick doing there, anyway?

He got up from the berth. "What is it, Boss?" he asked with his Alabamian accent.

Seth peaked over the edge of the upper berth kind of chocked.

Bellick's eyes were calm. He nodded a single time, and a prison guard yanked himself into the cell and took T-Bag by the back of his neck, throwing him out of the cell, where another guard caught him by his arms in a strong grip. The small man looked terrified, as the two guards helped each other handcuffing him.

T-Bag looked at Bellick questioning.

"Well," Bellick said with his arms crossed, a big disgusting grin covering his face, "it's your lucky day, Teddy."

Suddenly the other inmates started shouting and hammer on bars. This was after all the time of the day where all prisoners were in their own cells.

Seth appeared on the other side of the bars, when the cell closed. He felt relieved. Now he could be alone for just a little time, without that pedophile breathing down his back.

T-Bag didn't struggle, as he was followed along the cells and out of the prison block. Every single black prisoner would start a riot right away if their cells was about to be opened in just that moment, T-bag could feel it.

His face could tell he didn't care much about anything. Still he took a look up at Abruzzi's cell, seeing the mobster twist the bars in front of him.

"You know what I want, right?" Bellick stood behind the table. T-Bag sat on the other side, glaring at the guard, his dark hair almost reaching his eyes.

"Oh boi, that's a very good question" the prisoner replied shifting in the chair, "but ah'll just ask ya right away: wha' am ah' doin' here?"

Bellick shot his glance down and then returned to the smaller man. "I think you killed him, Teddy."

T-Bag giggled. "Oh please! Don't gimme that crap."

Bellick leaned across the table. He was almost in T-Bag's face now. Before he got to speak, T-Bag shot a smile, saying: "Ah' know ya fancin' me, Boss, but ah' ain't gonna make out wit' ya. In here ya have ta take ma pocket – as a starter."

Bellick was at the edge of rage. "Tell me," he warned, "now. Admit it. Just simple words, Teddy." Oh, how he loved power.

The handcuffed man sighed. He leaned back in the chair and said: "Ah' didn't have anythin' ta do with that murder." He was getting sick and tired of all this crap Bellick got him into. Like he was the only killer in that place! You could just ask Linc the Sink. But that didn't make sense when he was in isolation.

He was so far in his thoughts that he jumped in the chair when Bellick smacked the table.

"Then, what were you doing at the time?" Bellick asked with huge eyes staring at him at close hold.

"Ah' had fun wit' one of the bois," T-Bag answered smiling. It wasn't even a lie. He had been with John Abruzzi in the kitchen.

Bellick took a step back from the table and crossed his arms, watching as T-Bag played with his tongue between his teeth. "Teddy, Teddy," Bellick said, "I guess you could kill someone while you were fucking someone else. I guess you're that skilled."

The prisoner looked surprised. "Ya know, Boss, words can hurt." He shot his head down. "Ah'll tell ya for the last time: ah' didn't kill ya pretty friend."

Bellick rushed forward and grabbed the prisoner tight by the neck, pulled him up and dragged him against the wall behind him, T-Bag's head locked between the wall and Bellick's hand.

"Wrong answer," Bellick hissed and sent the prisoner's head hard against the wall.

T-Bag heard the loud bump behind his head and winced against the unbelievable headache that was now forming in his skull. But that was only the beginning. Within a few second Bellick sent his fist across T-Bag's face with all the force he could manage.

While T-Bag had the chance he asked with a tone of insecurity: "Is that the best ya can do?"

Bellick let go of him, but when the small man stepped forward, Bellick gave him another punch across his jaw and one upright, hitting his nose pretty bad.

T-Bag leaned back against the wall, attempting to stand up but almost couldn't manage, as his hands were still handcuffed behind him. He saw blood drops hitting the floor, when he looked down, suddenly feeling very dizzy. He lost his balance and fell forward almost hitting Bellick's legs, but the guard stepped aside, letting the prisoner take the fall.

When T-Bag was on the ground on his back gasping, Bellick overpowered him. He got above his stomach and started punching.

The guard punched till blood splattered on the floor. T-Bag screamed in anger and couldn't do anything else but take the shit.

Then Bellick stood. T-Bag rolled over to his side. Tears were mixing with blood, when he let out a sore whimper. His whole face felt completely swollen and numb.

The worst part wasn't even over yet. Bellick went to face the bloody face. He knelt and pulled T-Bag's hair. "Have you had enough yet? You want to say something?" he asked with eyes that shot fire.

Theodore managed to get his face calm. He spat at the guard's uniform, a bloody grin forming on his face. Disgusted, Bellick pushed the prisoner's head down in a fast movement and rose.

T-Bag thought it was over now, but then a kick went to his stomach, and he bend together in some sort of protective position.

"Are you sure, you're not gonna tell me something, Teddy?" Bellick taunted.

The smaller man gritted his teeth and squinted. Please, make it stop!

"You don't- have to do- this," he gasped with all his strength.

"What did you say, you want another one?" The guard giggled. He was getting mad with power.

For some seconds the guard kept kicking and the prisoner kept screaming.

Outside the room a guard watched the door, and when he heard all those terrible noises coming from said room, he peaked suspiciously through the little window in the door. He could clearly see what was happening, and he knew that Bellick was completely out of control. Therefore he pulled his walky-talky to his mouth and contacted Henry Pope, told him to get down there immediately.

Still handcuffed, T-Bag took another kick to his stomach and whimpered breathlessly. Now he tasted even more blood and hoped it wasn't as bad, as it felt.

Bellick went down to take a hold of Bagwell's jaw, his fingers drilling into his cheeks.

"Are you gonna admit what you did, Teddy?"

T-Bag snapped his eyes shot in pain. "Ain't- admitting- anythin'," he panted and sent a grin towards Bellick that said: 'You can beat me up till I die, I won't say anything'. He felt so pathetic, lying there and just taking every single trick he had got for him.

Bellick wouldn't play this stupid "I-don't-know-anything" game anymore. He punched the prisoner's face twice before standing. T-Bag rolled over to protect his painful stomach, now feeling Bellick kicking his back instead. His handcuffed hands got hit too.

In the same moment, Henry Pope entered the room with a quick swing of the door, and this made Bellick step back from T-Bag with a surprised glance.

Pope's eyes wandered from Bellick to T-Bag and back again. He also noticed the bloody floor.

The pedophile felt his heart sink in happiness. It's over. Good God, it's over.

Bellick didn't know what to say. His mouth moved like he was about to say something but the words never came out. "S-sir, I-" he stammered.

Pope cut him off with a hand in front of his face. "Not now, Bellick." Then he looked down at the prisoner, whose face was turned away from him. "Theodore, let's go."

T-Bag breathed heavily, gasping for air as he lied on the hard floor. He had heard Pope, yes, he had. He just hadn't got the strength. Every single muscle of his body was tightening in attempt to ease the pain. Hurts too fucking bad!

"C-can't," he panted almost whispering.

Theodore's reply made Pope glance chocked at Bellick, who pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Get in here! He needs to be taken to the hospital wing." Pope waved to guards into the room.

They could tell that T-Bag was in really bad shape, so they didn't bother taking off the cuffs. The prisoner made a painful sound, when he was lifted to his feet, and the guards supported him by one arm each.

On the way down the hall, the beaten-up man tried to stay focus. His head was throbbing harder and harder with every single step – yet he almost didn't hold himself up. The skin around one of his eyes was tightening so much that he couldn't see perfectly anymore. He gasped a single time, when he was dragged around the corner, his head feeling very heavy.

And then was when he passed out.

To Be Continued