CHAPTER 7: CURLED UP IN FRIGHT

Greetings again everyone! I've missed you! I feel pretty good about the last chapter. I mean, aside from Butters getting stabbed, but hey. You reap what you sow, right?

On a pretty personal note, I kind of want to apologize. A portion of this chapter means a lot to me. I struggle with PTSD and since this is a prison fic, I felt a strong urge to incorporate more aspects of emotional trauma. This chapter took so long because I was reading several psychology books for certain characters' future parts (I highly recommend reading 'The Wisdom of Psychopaths' by Kevin Dutton if you enjoy those sorts of things like I do). I really want to portray the proper mindset of a true serial killer soon enough. It was pretty taxing, but overall I'm proud of what I wrote and plan to write. The actual movement/action bits in this chapter are all derived from Sia's 'Elastic Heart' music video. I have a strong attachment to that video and for some reason it just felt right to give it a tribute somehow. Again, I'm so so sorry about the wait, but I needed some time to really focus on what I wanted this chapter to come across as. This chapter's also a little different because we switch POVs. Title from 'Broad-Shouldered Beasts' by Mumford & Sons.

My reviewers~

Callmetracy: I kind of figured I was adding a bit too much sex stuff xD It's a bad habit, honestly. But thank you for bringing that to my attention! I'll make sure it's relevant no matter what in the future~

twoshotsofvodka: My God, I love your reviews xD I agree with you on the Dip pairing. At first, when I came to terms with the ship, I was afraid it was a little too abusive for my taste, but really if Dip is done right it's very sweet! I did feel quite upset when I realized I had to kill off Karen, because I do actually cry over their relationship every time I watch The Poor Kid, but in my mind, that's the only way Kenny would have ever ended up in prison for a life sentence :( It hurts so wonderfully. -Ah, I'm glad you like the OITNB references! I have to be pretty subtle about them, because I was this to be an original thing, but they are really enjoyable to include~ And honestly, I 100% agree with you not feeling sad about what happens to Butters. You're not supposed to feel sad about it; he did something that betrayed the people he's grown to care about and this is him paying the price for it. I honestly still don't know how I entirely want Kenny to react to a betrayal like that. Butters character in general is rather fascinating to me; I love, but there's something definitely sinister lurking in the background. He's innocent most of the time, but then he'll do something that just… Ugh, he's sneaky alright xD And my God, I love Kyle too! I'm so happy to write his parts. He and Kenny share many important similarities and even more important differences. I guess they're the 'hero' characters of sorts~ A deep part of me wishes the Clyde would step up to be the hero for Craig, but I honestly see him more as a 'coward that wishes he wasn't one'. He has some growing up to do first :) Thank you again for reviewing! You always give me a pretty good idea on how my updates are received, so I really appreciate that!

fallingwthstyle: Thank you for the favorite! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far! :D

sirius1696: I totally understand feeling sorry mostly for Butters! He was dealt a really awful hand, and it's hard for people pleasers with his mentality to make a choice that would hurt others. As for his condition, you'll just have to see I suppose~ Thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate it :D

jdg: [Sorry!]

hollyleaf1122: It was most certainly a reference to Good Times With Weapons! That episode presented the perfect opportunity for both story progression and giving hardcore fans a smile, so I took it xD I'm very flattered you think my portrayal of the characters is in-character! It took a lot of dedication and rewatching episodes/reading wikis before I felt comfortable with how they interacted, so I really take your comment to heart :)

bonusducks: Aww, thank you for reading! I'm so relieved you're enjoying the story so far 3

deidaralover4evr: I'm glad you enjoyed the Dip part! Their relationship is something that just sort of dawns on me sometimes xD I spent so long trying to think of how an antichrist and a complete energy conserver could form an actual working relationship and finally it sort of hit me xP I do and I don't feel bad for Butters on this one. His heart was in the right place, but his actions weren't. But things'll change down the road~

TheHeroOfKvatch (Mrzmadara): Thank you for enjoying what I've written so far! I'm so very sorry about making you wait like that, but I wanted to do some thorough research on certain psychological issues that'll be addressed in the future! Hopefully things will be much more consistent now that I've completed that :)

[Butter's POV]

The impact was something alright. The searing, slicing agony spread from the nerves in my eye to the rest of my body like wildfire. The pain was so intense it stole the words from my throat and left me entirely speechless. My mouth was hanging suspended in shock and something in the back of my mind told me that my back had hit the floor just then. Hot sticky red blood- my blood splattered across the floor after me and I felt the vibrations of stamping feet through my fingertips. Someone came down with me and straddled my chest. Heavy breathing. Everything was heightened. Adrenaline coursed through my body and poured my blood out quicker. I was going to die, wasn't I?

I heard a scuffle, something hit something else and the person on top of me grunted and was presumably pulled off of me. A second later a pair of clammy hands grasped my head and propped it up. My depth perception was off and my other eye went completely black, as if I were covering it with my hand instead of it being stabbed out. I couldn't see who it was that was holding me.

"Butters, my God! Get the fucking nurse!" Kenny screamed at someone from right above me. "Goddamn it, GO! He's going to die!"

A moment passed. And several pairs of feets slapped against the kitchen's tile. "Kyle. KYLE. Don't you fucking touch him!"

Broflovski let out some angry shouts from another corner and it sounded as if he were being restrained. I didn't care anymore. Let him kill me. Someone was going to anyway. Eventually.

[Stan's POV]

The spat with Stotch and Kyle had caused quite the ripple in the prison, which was honestly surprising since I was certain most of the inmates didn't even care about them. But there were whispers of conspiracies involving some popular topics; like the plotted murder of Tucker and anyone remotely against him. Even now, two weeks after the incident, inmates were still on edge and murmuring of wild ideas involving the kitchen. With Tucker out of the picture, at least for now, the kitchen was once again a breeding ground for drugs. Me and my fellow correctional officers tried our best to stop the trafficking at its source, but we'd obviously had a breach of some sort. A large number of my co workers were convinced that breach was me, since I apparently attract a lot of prisoners who 'are on the leg', so to speak. In a way, I guess they're right. I'd do something illegal and lose my job in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Kyle out of trouble, but ever since he stabbed Stotch, he's been confined in the SHU (security housing unit). Kyle's a fighter, but it killed him to be put in solitary. To add insult to injury, I was the officer that had to throw him in.

There's nothing worse than solitary confinement, unless you managed to get put in the psych ward.

Essentially the SHU is this: a single white-washed square room, often only decorated in stains from things I'd rather not even think about. There is no bed. Our state provides the SHU with a steel, bolted-in, low toilet. There is a slot for food trays to be passed in and out of. And there is a heavy steel door with the tiniest window imaginable that's thick with glass. The inmate is stripped of all belongings- all clothing items included, and is left there to rot. Kyle's been in there for two whole weeks alone, and he still has one more to go (not that I could tell him that. He has no idea how long he's in there for and that's how it's supposed to be).

I've spent most of that time peering at him through that goddamn cocksucking window. I can't tell if it helps him for me to be there or not. Most of the time he's sitting down in a corner facing away from the door, holding his head in his hands. Knowing Kyle, he probably doesn't want to be seen this way from me. Vulnerable. Upset. Jarred. He tends to think into things more than is probably healthy to begin with, and now that he's alone with only his thoughts…

But today he did something completely different. He, like countless of other prisoners I've seen get locked up in solitary, had begun whispering and eventually audibly talking to himself sometime last week. Like I said, this was very common for prisoners to do, but it was honestly really spooky coming from my number one best friend. Like. It didn't just happen to psychos and freaks. No one was safe from the metal torment of the SHU. But yesterday, he had been chatting with himself like usual, this time about me. His one-sided conversations seemed to favor this topic as well as Ike's progression from being the smart ass kid to becoming an illegal substance dealer and all the pressures he had from his parents growing up. But he was really stuck today on what happened in the past between me and him. He began listing off numerous ways he could've dealt with the situation better and how it was his fault but then not his fault… His voice just kept rising and rising until he was shrieking. His face turned a reddened purple and he thrashed his fists against the walls in anguish.

My blood immediately ran cold and I made a judgement call. I pulled the dead bolt quickly, unlocked the other lock with my keys and wrenched the steel door open, closing it behind me. I grabbed Kyle's fists and fell to the floor, taking him with me.

By now his knuckles were stained in blood.

"Kyle…" I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please… Please calm down."

He seemed at a loss for words and just looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. "Get out of here, Stan."

I felt like he had struck me, but I reasoned that he didn't fully understand what was going on. "Kyle, you need to-"

"GET OUT OF HERE STAN!" He screamed, ripping his hands out of mine and throwing himself back violently, falling backwards and smacking the back of his head against the wall. He groaned wordlessly but continued to thrash.

"Kyle," I spoke again, my voice raised a little. He stood quickly and backed away from me, his back resting against the wall. He didn't speak.

I stood as well. Slowly. I didn't want to startle him. I reached out my hand to him in what I hoped was a calming gesture.

He didn't seem to think so.

He snarled at my attempt to soothe him and backed off to the farthest corner of the room he could. I was startled by his response and backed away as well. We stood, both slightly crouched, at opposite ends of the room.

What happened to him?

We were still for a long time before Kyle dropped to a crouch. Surprised, I decided to mirror his rather animalistic movements. Maybe he would somehow understand that better. With his eyes locked onto mine, he crawled over in my direction on all fours. I felt a little silly, but knew I had to do the same. But as soon as we got within five feet of each other, he sprang at me with wild eyes.

I jumped away as fast as I could, but he managed to grab onto my arm and dragged me closer to him, his other hand trying to clasp at my throat. A sudden fear quelled in the pit of my stomach and I fought back fiercely, trying to push him off of me. But Kyle was clever. He swiftly grabbed my shoulders and with my momentum threw me clear across the room. I tried to regroup on the opposing wall, but he had run over with me and he threw his foot up to kick me in the stomach. I doubled over and gasped of air, unable to stop him from straddling me from behind and trying to choke me out.

My breath completely lost, I took a few wobbly seconds to stand, lifting him in the air with me, kicking and screaming. I slammed his body into one of the walls, trying to free my neck from his tight grasp. I finally managed to throw him off and he hit the ground. I felt bad, seeing his stunned expression, but I knew I needed to escape. I trailed along the walls, feeling them with my fingertips, all the while never losing sight of Kyle. I was about halfway to the door when he moved again.

But he didn't attack me again. Instead, he curled into himself on the floor and let out a little strangled gasp. A flare of hope rose like a flame in my chest. Had Kyle finally come to his senses?

I walked over to him cautiously until I was only two feet away. He was looking at me in stifled pain. My heart went out to him; he would most certainly have a lot to mull over negatively after this little encounter. I gathered my courage and stroked his cheek as gently as I could without shaking too bad.

But as soon as I made contact with his skin his bolted up, back into his crouch. I bolted with him, reaching out my hand wordlessly. He looked at it carefully and then looked back up at me. He so very cautiously took my hand and placed it back on his pallid cheek.

He appeared to visibly calm down and turned, allowing me to loosely hold him. We stayed like that for a couple moments, until he sharply turned his head and bite down on my hand. I yelled and tried to yank it back as I felt his teeth cutting into my flesh. When I finally managed to pry it away from him he stood, screamed at me, and ran back to his corner.

I was getting pretty goddamn tired of this game of cat and mouse. Enraged, I flew at him, feeling the blood ooze out of my hand. He leaped out of the way, but this time I chased after him. I grabbed him and threw him over my shoulder in a fit of blind pain and flung him around. I felt him thrive and thrash about before managed to work his way free, hitting the floor yet again. I threw myself onto him as he tried to back away and straddled him.

"Talk to me Kyle!" I screamed. "What is happening to you?!"

He pried an arm free and clotted me in the ear. It wasn't a very strong blow, but it made my ear ring painfully nonetheless. My grip on him slackened and he did something else I didn't expect. He threw me aside, tore through my officer's jacket pockets, and fished out my ring of keys. He sprinted to the door and began trying key after key in the lock, hissing and crying out when they wouldn't fit.

Wincing from the throbbing in both my ear and my hand, I scrambled after him, refusing to let him escape. But as I grasped his ankles, he had located the correct key and had gotten the door open.

I held on for dear life as Kyle tried to kick free his feet. There were no other guards patrolling this area, since we were so understaffed. He was so close to freedom, it was driving him positively mad. All of his thrashing did him a disservice, however. He ended up losing his balance and toppling backwards, partly on top of me.

I let go of one of his feet and pounded my palm against the door, trying with all my might to close it. But Kyle was positively rabid. He pulled himself up like someone would for a sit up and grabbed at my hand on the door. He ripped it off and flung outside, tearing free of my other hand. With a gleeful exclamation, he closed the door shut in my face. I pounded wildly on the door in blind protest, but he just smiled at me. I yelled out a wordless roar at him and punched the door in anger, causing it to bleed more than it already was.

A deep sense of dread settled onto me in the room and I peered out of the window at Kyle. Now I knew what it felt like for him. He grinned at me haughtily and pointed down to the food tray window. With no other option, I knelt down to it obediently.

I waited for something to happen. Finally I heard Kyle whisper something to me. "It's my fault, Stan."

A wave crashed down on me as I listened to Kyle- my Kyle, finally speak an actual tangible sentence. I didn't know what he was referring to, whether it was Stotch's assault or mine, but I didn't care. Kyle seemed to be momentarily sane enough to speak.

"Kyle." I let out an exhausted sigh. "Please. What are you doing?"

He didn't reply, but I heard the door unlock. He walked back in calmly, like freedom wasn't even his main goal anymore. I gathered the reminder of my strength- both mental and physical and stood. He fell into my chest and embraced me.

"Stan." He said in an endearing tone that was all too familiar. "Do you remember that time in freshman year when we were playing video games with Kenny? I was upset about how my parents were already planning for me to go to Harvard and Kenny went out to go to the bathroom. You squeezed my thigh and told me that whether I was a Harvard student or a hobo you'd still be my family. Do you remember that?"

I nodded stiffly in his embrace, only just barely distinguishing the memory he was referring to. There had been so many like that.

"That's when I knew I was in love with you."

This was by far the most excruciating pain Kyle had inflicted on me so far. My knees gave out and I sunk to the floor in defeat. He followed me, cradling my face in his hands. He ran his fingers over the surface of my face and examined my eyes very carefully. He kissed my forehead lingeringly and took up one of my hands, dragging me to the door.

"We should just run away, Stan. You and me. Get out of this place and start over. Somewhere clean." He spoke and he led me to the door.

"Kyle." I choked out, finally feeling the emotion catch up with me as tears forced their way down my cheeks. "You're sick."

"...I know." He stated simply. He gave me a brittle little smile and patted me with finality once on the chest. "It's time for you to go, Stan."

"Please." I begged him. "Please just hold out for one more week, Kyle. Just one more. I'll get you the proper medication, I promise. You'll… God, you'll be back to the way you were before, Kyle. I promise. Just stay here and keep yourself safe, okay? I'll come back for you. We can escape and- I'll always be thinking of you, Kyle, I promise. I prom-"

I couldn't look at him. I was nearly hysterical myself, and I walked out of the already open door before turning around to kiss him quickly. He stepped back and let me shut the door without a scene.

As I began to walk away, I reflected on what had happened. I was certain I knew what was wrong with him. Temporary insanity. This piss stain of a place was messing with him worse than I originally thought. He was going to lose himself if I didn't get him out of here.

I looked up at the dismal clock on the wall and sighed. My shift had been over twenty minutes ago. Wendy Testaburger and a couple of my other co workers had planned for us all to go out drinking tonight and they were probably wondering where I was. I trudged out of the SHU and walked over to the officer's changing rooms, ripping open the heavy door and heading over to my locker. My favorite coworker, Gary Harrison, was already changing out of his uniform.

"Stan!" He greeted, lifting a hand in greeting. I dipped my head in a polite nod. "How was SHU today?"

I swallowed and replied hollowly. "How it always is."

Unfazed, he asked. "You're going tonight, right? It wouldn't be the same without my wing man!"

"Yeah. I'll be there." Honestly I had no idea why Gary even went to these things. He couldn't drink because of his religion, but he claimed he 'liked socializing'. I truly couldn't even comprehend why someone would willingly want to talk to other people sober like he does, but he's a nice enough guy.

"How have the inmates been treating you lately? You've been watching Broflovski's cell like a hawk since he got in. Do you think he was smuggling drugs?"

Drugs. As if. Drugs are what Kyle needs, if anything. Now that he's been acting up recently, everyone has been talking about him like he was some rabid animal or something.

"He's not like that." I snapped, shrugging out of my uniform. "He's just had a rough go of it."

"That stunt he pulled with Stotch would say otherwise."

"Gary, just. Don't. Not tonight."

"Why not?" He prodded, trying to meet my eyes with his. "Stan, you haven't been yourself since he got here. Clearly he has some sort of hold on you. Look, I get trying to sympathize with an inmate. But it's not a healthy thing to do. Just let him sort out things for himself. He seems like a pretty violent guy, so once he's out of SHU he'll be fine. Really."

Annoyed, I slipped on my normal clothes and buckled my belt in silence.

"Hey." Gary began yet again. "How about you come over to my place after the bar? It might do you some good to just unwind."

I pulled on my jacket with a sigh. "I don't know, dude. I'm not as good at socializing like you are under stress. I think I shouldn't bite off more than I can chew tonight."

Gary looked a little peeved but walked me out with a small "Okay man." We headed out to the parking lot and went off to our cars.

We arrived about the same time to The Drunken Huntsmen. Inside the double doors was a large bar decorated with collections of souvenirs from Ireland. Kilts were nailed above the doorways and a blazing grand fireplace was burning hot in the middle of the building. The cups were chipped and the seats were ripped, but I and everyone else reveled in the homey feel it gave off. Every night the same red-headed woman played the accordion and sang, and tonight she was laughing in the back at something a bearded man had said. Scanning the bar, Gary and I managed to find our boss and her best friend and coworker, Bebe Stevens, off to the right in a booth. Gary called out to get their attention and we greeted them and slid into seats beside them.

"Hey! I'm glad you could make it!" Wendy smiled, taking a drink from her beer mug. "We were just wondering if you two would show up."

"Are the others coming?" I asked, looking around.

"Well, Rebecca's over at the bar getting us some more drinks and Garrison and Mackey are over by the TV watching the game. From what we last saw, the Broncos were down by one."

"Fuck." I grumbled. "Well, I'm gonna go get a drink or two for myself. Do you want anything Gary?"

"Just some water." He replied, and off I went.

Over at the bar, I immediately downed three shots of Jim Beam Devil's Cut Whiskey before I even considered going back to the booth. And by the time I did, Rebecca (the newly hired doctor for the prison who had a pretty unsteady hand when it came to needles) had come back and had taken my seat. So I set down Gary's glass of water, grabbed a beer off the table, and went over to go see how the Broncos were fairing.

Wendy had been right. By the time I sat down next to my two coworkers, the Broncos were down by three. The odds of them winning were practically nonexistent this game. Mackey was downing some beer with rosy cheeks as Garrison was screaming at the TV. Looking at the priest, I felt a sudden rage quell up in the pit of my stomach. Here was this awful, raunchy 'holy' man with all the freedom he could dream of, wasting his time screaming at an old television set while Kyle was literally losing his mind in an enclosed cell. Kyle deserved to be here getting shitfaced with me. He deserved to wallow over the Broncos impending defeat with me and snicker over how ridiculous and dull my coworkers were. Kyle would hate Gary with a passion and would probably get into long drunk conversations about water conservation with Wendy. He'd probably avoid Bebe and Rebecca like I did and halfway through the night he'd just turn to me and whisper, "Let's get out of here." He deserved to do all of these things more than I even did. And it made me want to punch Garrison in his fucking face.

After he had finished his beer, Mackey noticed me and exclaimed, "Stan! When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago , I think."

"Did you say hi to the girls yet, mmkay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"I think Wendy might fancy you, Stan. She seems to like you an awful lot, mmkay."

"Eww gross!" Garrison cut in, sitting down next to Mackey. "Don't go for that fuckin' cunt, Stan. You can do waaaay better."

"Now I think Wendy's a nice girl. Maybe a little too jealous, but she's nice enough, mmkay."

"No fuckin' way." Garrison burped. "If you know anything about Wendy, you'll know better than to bang her. That bitch has some serious baggage."

"Why would you of all people know that?" I asked in exasperation. I was drunk, but not enough to have a meaningful conversation with Garrison.

"Because I actually pay attention when people fuckin' talk in hallways and the like." He snapped. "But anyway, I'm gonna tell you Stan. So that you don't make a big ass mistake and walk in a goddamn minefield of menstrual pain and suffering. So pay attention."

I sighed but was drunk enough to let him continue. It's not like I had anything better to listen to anyway. "So basically Wendy was talkin' to her bitch friend Bebe about some sort of prescription she was supposed to be taking for, get this, bipolar disorder. Apparently she lost her pills and they refused to give her more, thinkin' she was an addict or something. Our fuckin' boss is bi-fuckin'-polar can you believe it?!" He snorted and wobbled on his chair. "You gotta wonder if it was a gene thing or if something majorly fucked up happened, you know?"

Feeling uncomfortable, I quickly announced, "I'm gonna go get another couple shots."

I left Garrison to his chortling and headed back over to the bar. It's hard to say how many shots I had, but at some point Gary pulled me away from the bar and told me it was probably best if I got home. He walked me over to his car and opened the passenger's side for me. After helping me get my seatbelt on, he ran across to the driver's side and got in.

"You're pretty drunk, huh?" He grinned as we got on the freeway.

"Maaybe."

We drove in a comfortable silence until he stopped in front of my apartment.

"You're number 362, right?" He asked as I fumbled with the keys to the front.

"Ye- ah."

He grabbed my arm as we approached the stairway and helped me get up them. I pointed to the right of the hallway and we managed to get in front of my door.

"Hey Stan?" He asked. "Can I come in for a bit?"

"Surewhynot."

I held open the door and he stepped in.

"I was meaning to ask you something, actually."

"Oh really? What?" I was interested. It sounded somewhat serious.

"Well, uh. Do you think? Do you think being gay is a sin?" He asked quietly.

"How the fuck would I know? You're the Mormon here." In the back of my head, I was wincing at how harsh that sounded, but at least it was true. "I'm fine with gay people, personally. So I don't really care."

"Well, I know you're okay with being gay. Aren't you homosexual too?"

Where the hell did that come from?! "What. What are you talking about?"

"Stan, we've been coworkers for a long time. It's kind of obvious when you're checking out the other guys in the changing room."

"Oh. Well. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because." He stepped closer to me. "I like you, Stan. You're a really interesting, sensitive guy. I like that you care about the inmates so much."

All of a sudden he was kissing me. My brain was slow to picking up what was happening, but after a moment, I pushed him away.

"No. I can't. I'm in love with someone else."

Gary let out a little bitter laugh. "Now who the heck could that be? I know you, Stan. You don't exactly see many people on a regular basis that aren't behind bars."

And there it was. It slipped out before I could stop myself.

"Kyle."

It went deathly quiet. Not even my heater made a noise.

"Kyle Broflovski?"

[Damien's POV]

Most people don't know this, but it's actually really goddamn hard being a satanist. It kills conversations before they've even begin, and it doesn't leave much room for friendships to evolve. That's why when that blonde guy with the awkward British accent actually agreed with me on my views, I became a little obsessed with finding out who this person was. We started talking after Marsh's 'let's pretend we're normal and in a class' thing about some really deep topics. Abortion, equal salary pay, saving the environment… whatever really. And even though we'd initially have differing opinions, we would both always come to a certain understanding of the other side and alter our views a little. It was disturbing how much we actually had in common, but there was always one topic we'd never dare discuss. Religion.

We always hung out along a certain side of the wire fence, and I assumed he'd be there now. When I got there, it turned out I was right. He was sitting with his back to the fence, reading a book titled 'Al Gore: A Wake-Up Call To Global Warming'. Typical. I plopped down on the ground next to him.

He looked up from his book. "Damien! There you are. I was wondering how long it would take you before you showed up here."

"Now you know."

"Listen. I really think we should start an organization right away about the effects global warming will have on our future. Wouldn't it make just the hugest statement if prisoner's of all people-"

Here we go.

"Pip, I want to talk to you about something."

"Oh- Oh really? Well, I suppose global warming can wait for a moment longer in that case. What is it?"

"Well, we've never really addressed the elephant in the room before. I think we should now." I hoped I wouldn't lose a potential friend for this.

"What elephant? ...Oh my! Are you attracted to me, Damien? Because I think-"

"NO! That's not what I meant at all!" I yelled. "We've never talked about the fact that I worship fucking Satan!"

"Oh… That." Pip giggled nervously. "Well, I mean. I didn't want to pressure you or anything of the sort. I just thought to myself 'Phillip! If Damien doesn't bring it up, then you shouldn't be rude and pry about it!' So I didn't. What exactly would you like to say about it?"

I was caught off-guard and somewhat unnerved by his answer. "Well, does it scare you that my father is Satan?"

"Initially, I suppose it did. But my goodness, Damien! You're such a nice antichrist, don't you think? Why, you've been nothing but accepting of my views and you haven't made me feel uncomfortable in the slightest!"

I really didn't even know where to begin to respond to that. "Well… Doesn't it… Conflict with your religious beliefs?"

"It would have before. I was raised a Catholic, after all. But you see, my parents are dead, so no one really enforces that on me much. The orphanage did, but everyone hated me there, so I didn't really pay their thoughts much mind. All I really care about is protecting the world I'm in from falling to the harmful effects of global warming!" Pip thought for a moment. "I suppose it'd be nice to be a Wiccan, wouldn't it? They respect the Earth, and that way, I wouldn't be intruding on your own beliefs at all. In fact, I believe most of them are cultists of sorts."

I smirked. "You'd be a fucking terrible Wiccan."

"Well, I'd a least give it a shot! When we get out of here, we could have a nice little place in the woods. Somewhere away from toxic civilization. And we could paint a cute little pentagram on the door and have altars and candles all over." Pip didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest by his assumption that we'd stick together after we got out of prison. It was oddly endearing.

"What about the blood sacrifices? Would you be okay with that?" I played along.

"If they were sacrifices of older animals that have lived a full life, I'd make an exception." He laughed.

We daydreamed about our lives outside of prison for a countless amount of time after that. But deep down, we both knew. Once you're in the system, you can't escape it. There is no end to your sentence. But for now, I was happy pretending that wasn't true.

Another somewhat shorter chapter, I'm sorry. But hey! I put together a proper skeleton of the remaining story line, so hopefully I'll be able to update this sooner~ I have quite a few side-projects I'm working on right now. If you like the video game Until Dawn, I'm starting a chaptered fic on that soon enough :D But this story is the top-priority until it's finished! So stay tuned~

ALSO if you're into Tumblr, mine username is sittinginsolemnsilence. I post stupid stuff that makes me laugh mostly, but if you're into that, knock yourself out xD