My posting dates are a little reversed (blame my inspiration lol) I apologize for any grammar and spelling errors I may have. Anyway, here's the next chapter!

Enjoy!

"It's very simple," A booming voice called out to the crowd of people gathered in the gloomy setting of square surrounded by prison blocks in the pouring rain. "If you attempt to run, you will be shot. If you attempt to riot, you will be shot and if you disobey our orders you will be shot. Understand that there is not a living thing on Rockfort Island that exists in the world. If you are admitted here, you're existence has been removed." The man in the uniform spoke. He and his fellow companions garbed in similar-if not identical-attire all fashioned parkas while the rest of the prisoners were left to the weather's mercy.

Among these prisoners was a more youthful being. To any who spared him a glance-it was obvious that he was within the prime of his youth. To have earned the misfortune of fate bringing him to this horrid place also earned him various empathetic glances-said glanced would go unnoticed however as his gaze was downcast in the mud at his boots, moreover the youth found this childish action ironic to his own situation.

He, like the other sixty prisoners gathered around him was given the attire in which he would be identified. Two shirts, one a worn cotton shirt that he assumed was once yellow and the other a button down shirt with a collar now a faded grey and blue with a stained white trim-his name printed on the back with a three digit number below, "267." He wore both his shirts, one over the other in fear of the idea that another prisoner might take them from him-for at times like these possessions were treasures. Every prisoner was also given a pair of brown or black boots and a pair of pants with a camouflage print that couldn't conceal them in their surroundings. He had wondered if that element of their uniform was merely a tool to increase the sense of hopelessness. Acknowledging his curiosity upon receiving his blue shirt, the question of its worn state and its contradiction surrounding his only recently printed name and number made him wonder if its state was yet another cruelty towards his current label. Prisoners were not given the luxury of new clothes.

In regards to the present, the boy felt a gaze boring on him while the uniformed guard continued to boom his voice over the rain and thunder about promises of their doomed fate. Seconds passed, or perhaps a single minute passed before the boy finally gazed in the direction in which he knew the gaze would be emitting from. A man a foot taller than him looked back at him, his identical eyes drowned in sorrow and worry bore back at him. He was really only inches away from him, but the thin woman dressed in a simple black shirt with one ruined strap clung to her torso, for it was not the rain alone that caused her discomfort, but the lack of lingerie that had been available. Out of respect for the woman in an equally pathetic state, he averted his eyes.

His glare towards the man beyond the woman was a mixture of accusation and fear. He blamed this man for his fate. The man frowned but nonetheless kept his eyes on the boy wanting to memorize every feature. The boy attempted an icy glare-though it could not be seen in the storming night and he had never before had the practice of a hateful glare. The man chose not to acknowledge his glare and instead chose to hold out his hand to the boy, beckoning his son to his side. Instead, the boy looked away and replaced his gaze on the mud at his boots.

"You will be sorted into two lines!" the man's voice boomed. The boy looked up at the man shouting over the rain instead of his father, willing his father's gaze to do the same but knowing his wish wouldn't become reality. The prisoners around him began to form a poor excuse for a line and he turned to join a man to his left-as he took the first step however a hand grabbed at his collar. His reaction-though logical-was to immediately pull away. When he saw the hand belonged to his father, the feeling intensified.

"Stop it!" his father hissed at him. "Steve come! Right now!" he voice was stern and yet held a hint of panic, but Steve's anger clouded his better judgment, as it had done many times in his life. He pulled against the man heatedly.

"Let go of me! Let go of me you jack ass!" he bit back furiously.

"Break it up!" an officer's voice came to them like the loud thunder clapping above their heads. The officer snaked an arm around Steve's torso and yanked him away from his assumed attacker and slammed the butt of his rifle against his father's shoulder. Fear prickled in Steve's mind at seeing this but missed his opportunity to show his father any sign of apology as the officer yanked him into the line behind him. He was pushed along by other prisoners during the time he threw glances at the opposite line where his father had been taken, wanting to see evidence that his father still retained existence before he lost his second opportunity.

"Left." He heard another officer say. He gazed in the direction he was heading with the rest of his fellow prisoners and realized that the lines were still being sorted. "Right." With a swing of his cane both lines were separated. Three more beings were sorted, only two left before his fate was decided. Panic welled up within him as he looked once more for his father in the other line. Tears swelled in his eyes, regret quickly replacing fear as another person was sorted. It was too late. He wasn't going to be able to correct one last mistake he had made. How he regretted his childish anger towards the one person he was certain wouldn't harm him.

A clap of thunder, another prisoner sorted, and suddenly hand snatched at his collar yanking him from one line to the other. A hand clapped over his mouth before he could scream and a voice came, "Be quiet Steve!" his father. He nodded, pledging his obedience b refusing to remove the hand form his mouth and kept pace with the man, begging silently to live past the night.

"Hold it!" a shrill voice came. Both lines came to a dreaded halt and panic welled up inside them both. His father's grip on him became painful. Steve clung to him. They had been caught. It was over. He would die for his disobedience. An officer stomped over and yanked a boy his height standing three people behind them out of line. "What' going on, Ron?" another guard asked, boredom evident in his voice. He dragged the boy with him and replied, "This little fucker jumped lines!"

"No I didn't!" the boy yelled. Steve's eyes widened in horror at the expected result. He inched foreword, ready to stop this atrocity but failed when his father yanked him to his chest.

"Stop it you Steve! I'm not letting you so stop it!" he hissed in his ear while keeping one hand firmly over his son's mouth and the other around his torso. He kissed his son's head and did what he could to block his son's vision from what was going to come next.

The gunshot echoed-his son froze in his arms-and an audible thud cam next.

"Move it!" the officer named Ron hissed at the rest. He forced his son to walk with him, caressing his back with his hand while Steve trembled. They were herded to a cell block, climbed the ramp and entered the wooden building.

"That's it!" a guard called form behind. He looked over his shoulder and froze when he realize he hand Steve were the last of the prisoners admitted into this building. He tilted his head back and thanked a higher power he had moments ago damned for the brief separation from his son.

Dreary and tired as they entered the tiny prison with bunks on either side of the tiny walkway, he failed to notice his son's struggles-though once he did he released his son and watched miserably as Steve once again turned his back to him, avoiding his gaze.

"You're here." The guard said as he came round the corner, shoving a pathetic excuse of a pillow at his son. Deafly, his son received the thing and climbed into the bottom bunk at the end of the hallway, crawling into a ball with his back to the small world he had been given. His heart broke that very moment, for his son who was robbed of his youth and innocent views of humanity.

That's it! Reviews please? ^_^