He blinked his eyes open slowly to the darkness around him. The sun was coming up over the desert like terrain and sedimentary rock mountains where only cacti dwelled and wild horses roamed. Dirk looked at the streams of light coming through the bars of the window. It was cold and his entire body ached as he moved his hand to grip his pillow. He had apparently slept through his first evening and missing the dinner call though he doubted that he would have eaten anyway. He let out a low breath, eyes still very tired from the events that had happened over the last few days. There wasn't a better time to think than right now; especially when the entire prison seemed to be sleeping except for him… Dirk stretched out his legs that were curled in on himself and cracked his knuckles, back, neck, knees and ankles. The curse of being double jointed meant everything crackled worse than Rice Krispies.

He had done a lot for a twenty-something year old within six months. Dirk rubbed his eyes, breathing out and relishing the low lights around him. Vincent had promised him that he would take his case to the Supreme Court to overrule and find more evidence to free him, but honestly he didn't think much would come out of that endeavor. He didn't exactly trust him, but then again, his rate of trusting practical strangers had certainly dropped in recent months. Dirk believed Roxy would make sure that Vincent followed through- Jake and Jane would aid her as much as they could. It was a better idea not to hope for something like that, better to get something when not hoping on it than hoping and not getting. It was rare anymore that the courts overturned anything that was already passed by a lower level judge that had as much respect as his dead. Theresa Pyropa was one of the most fair judges in the state, and she valued justice above all else- that was what he had been told by Vincent at least. It was strange, to have a judge that supposedly couldn't be bought or bribed now days. Someone was always on someone payroll and if they weren't, there had to be some dirt that they had kept well hidden.

Dirk rolled over to look at the underside of the bunk above him. There were names scratched into the metal and he couldn't help but remember the wall in Nathanial's makeshift jail below his home. He frowned, reading all the nicknames. There was a moment when the cold settled into his chest and he could hardly breathe. It passed in seconds- but that didn't mean it didn't hurt when it had. Somewhere in his mind he realized that he had gone into that Hell as "Dirk" but left being something entirely different. He no longer knew what it felt like not to hurt or carry the weight of guilt that he absolutely could not shed. Dirk read through the names again before shutting his eyes. The entire situation left a wound on him that was mental and physical… and he knew how to patch up his own physical wounds. Mental scarring on the other hand was more difficult to try to fix or heal. If the PTSD from the Game wasn't enough to show for that lack of knowledge he possessed. Dirk wondered if Jake, Rose or Jane realized that if he could just snap his fingers, he would fix himself immediately. He blamed himself for that too. He had walked away from the Game with more issues than everyone else and had nearly offed himself because he just didn't believe he was worth keeping around.

His mind went darker as he continued with those thoughts. He still to this day wasn't worth keeping around. How much money were they spending on his lawyer? How much time were they wasting getting him out of prison when he could just…? Dirk looked at the blanket and then to the ceiling. There was no place to tie it to and he let out a long breath. He couldn't take pills either. Outside there was a railing that he could throw himself off of but he imagined there was a fence of some sorts to keep him from doing such a thing. Hell, the prisoners looked like they were already planning on killing him so what was the point of committing suicide? What Hal had said before, that- which since Hal was a hallucination, Dirk had technically been the one speaking- he would commit suicide regardless of the outcome didn't unsettle him as much as he thought it would. Dirk breathed out and banged his head back into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispered to the silence, only slight white noise and ringing in his ears. His head hurt and he put pressure on both sides of his head to hold them together from the splitting migraine. Dirk swallowed, trying not to focus on the pain in his head or his chest… but… He missed Jake. That was probably the main source of his heartache. When he was trapped with Jenna and Rachel- he had never had the time or the strength to worry about Jake- now he was alone again.

Dirk sighed angrily at himself. He had broken it off and that was better for everyone involved. He would probably visit and there was nothing he could do to change Dirk's mind about the decision. Honestly, Dirk didn't blame Jake any longer for what he said. It was nearly half a year ago by this point and the man was so drunk that he could have been talking to a squirrel and thought it was Jane. He pushed the blond hair out of his face as he thought about Jake then rubbed his eyes. If the spiraling depression in his life wasn't caused by his self-ensured break-up, it was definitely assisting it. Dirk tried to shut up the little voice in his head that told him Jake would just be waking up around this time if he was still on the sleeping schedule Dirk knew. Jake would smile and roll over to kiss the back of his neck, wrap his arm around Dirk's waist, whispering a good morning before letting the paler sleep for a while longer. Dirk shut his eyes. "Shut up." He told his brain, pushing the entire vision in his mind away. "I'm better off alone." He told himself before hearing a slam of bars and a whistle. "Time to get up, ladies!" One of the guards screamed and he sucked up the emotions. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to lay there and die. He shielded his eyes from the light, rising despite his inner battle.

xXx

Dirk soon found out that a typical day for a prisoner was far from what he expected. The guards ushered them all like cattle down into a cafeteria that was fit told hold the entire complex. He filed into the line with the rest of the inmates- not looking up at any of them as he moved into the line and only spoke a word of thanks to the worker that served him his grits with a stale piece of toast. He sat alone, on the farthest table he could without the guards watching him like hawks. It was maybe around 5:30 in the morning by that point and he only ate maybe two spoonfuls of food before getting sick on his stomach. He watched a few before a guard walking by told him that he was being assigned a job in three days due to a paperwork mistake and to enjoy himself while he could. Dirk found that not particularly unsettling, but knew that would more than likely get him into shit with the other inmates- who were already filing back into hallways to report to their work assignments. There was no one to write a letter to that he felt like that would bother with reading it, the library was being 'remodeled' after an incident with a few spray bottles of paint, and… that left him sitting in his bunk waiting for the day to end.

Around 12, they called for lunch and he found himself back in line with no stomach for what was being served. He sat in the same place as before, ignoring everyone else around him while he stared at his tray. The prison didn't even give them forks- just very bendable rubber spoons. The meal didn't have a bit of color to it and he frowned trying to pick it apart with the spoon. He felt more like a mental patient than he did a prisoner. The mix made a sticky sound as he pulled it apart to see a mixture of beef, vegetables, bread and a few other things that had all been thrown into a blinder. For someone who had been starved to death for months before this and would eat dirt or bugs to live, he nearly puked on the spot seeing what they had mashed together. He pushed it down before blinking as a shadow came over his table. Though it was a relief to his eyes- he damn well knew it wasn't a good sign. His intense orange gaze looked up from the 'mystery sludge' to the people hovering over him now.

By this point, he hadn't eaten in two days, slept well, or had his medication. All of that combined made Dirk have absolutely zero patience for anyone willing to start something with him. The prisoner that was leaning over him was a beefy sort of man who looked vaguely Hispanic and two skinner men behind him. One looked like the living embodiment of a horse and the other had a bowl cut that would only make a grandmother proud. His ears pricked at the sudden silence in the room as the largest settled his hands on the table, one on either side of his lunch tray. Over the man's shoulder was another prisoner that wasn't a part of the group. Dirk's eyes briefly met amber brown pair of eyes that were staring back him. There was only a moment of connection before Dirk's gaze returned to the three in front of him now. "Can I help you?" Dirk asked, raising a blond eyebrow at them and the largest flipped over his tray so it clattered off the table and onto the floor. There was a long sigh from Dirk's nose- it wasn't like he was planning on eating it anyway.

"Why you here, Homes?" The blond stared back up at him with narrowed eyes, the guards were watching them from behind cages above, but didn't make a move toward them in the slightest. "That's my business." The largest snorted, taking him by the front and dragged him up out of his seat, over the table until he was held up in front of him. The other prisoners in the room backed up. Dirk caught a glimpse of the red eyed prisoner again still watching him in the sudden movement of the room. There was an inmate beside the one with red eyes that was large and extremely muscular. His long black ponytail was tied up and he was listening to the other talk with a grim look. The brief moment broke again when he was pulled so roughly. Dirk snarled, hand going to the one on his shirt front and nails clawing at the meaty appendage there. The guards did nothing to stop them from fighting- they were there to keep them in, not police them inside the building. They weren't paid enough to stop fights when it was a privately owned prison. The large man laughed at him, shaking him while he was up in the air. "You gonna die here, homes. You got that? No pretty boys stay in my cell block without pay'in the toll."

Dirk was a naturally calm human being. He had a very 'slow-to-boil' temper according to Roxy and the others. Though when he finally got to the point where he was mad, things seemed to be destroyed. Probably one of the many reasons he was a Prince class in the Game. The 413 tag on his orange jumper ripped a little in man's grip. Dirk snarled at the man still holding him, "Let me go before I remove your arm." Of course, it caused larger man to laugh more and the two behind him took out knives- or rather, sharpened sticks into knives. Dirk didn't know, nor did he care, what a toll previously mentioned was. He had been threatened and he had a flashback to Nathanial brandishing a knife in front of his face for a moment. Dirk's eyes dilated in under a second. He hadn't fought Nathanial because he was scared for Jenna and he was too weak. He was weak now… but he didn't give a damn what happened to himself at this point.

It all went downhill from there. Dirk head butted the man, causing him to drop him. He may have been underweight, but he still knew how to use his body in all the right ways to drop a larger target than him. Dirk took one of the mental legs from the bench he had been sitting on a few moments ago. Breaking it off in time, he swung and connected with the horse looking man's neck. He knocked him down, twirled it to hit the other coming from behind. The largest had gotten up again and he took out his knee, before shoving the pole up underneath his chin. They lay in a heap around him and Dirk let out a breath, staring at the wreckage of the table, split trays and unconscious bodies around him.

All eyes were on him. It had taken less than twenty seconds to take out three grown men who had surely caused more terror than what they were worth. "Let's get one thing straight here!" He yelled to the crowd, looking up at the second floor balcony's as he tossed the now bent pipe on the table. It clattered to a stop, "I'm not here to be anyone's bitch! I'm not here to make friends. And I'm sure as hell not here to do anything but my time and go home. Anyone got a problem with that- take it up with the fucking management. Got it?" No one answered and he stepped over one of the men on the floor. He walked past the prisoner with red eyes and his muscled, Native American looking friend, their eyes met for a moment and he almost saw a smirk on the other's features.