Title: Redemption is Only a Word
Rating: T
Summary: "Hello again Theodore." She whispered. "You look frightened."
Aquamum: Thanks for the review! Yes I will update, but this is the last one. It's just a short story thing. Thanks again!
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"Look at 'em." T-Bag hissed suddenly, starring moodily at the other side of the yard. "Fuckin' rugheads fillin' up the whole damn yard." The members of the Alliance turned and followed his stare.
"What you wanna start somethin' with these guys T?" Chokey asked, looking back over at T-Bag.
"Bet they're behind it. Fuckin' rugheads. Think they are? Fuckin-Rip 'em- make 'em pay…" Every other word became incoherent mumbling under his breath, he didn't see the glances being exchanged amongst the members but he could feel their uneasiness.
Yard time ended all to slowly and by that time a plan had been hatched. It was full hardy and lacked everything that it should. But nonetheless, T-Bag was sure that it would work.
He walked quickly forward, the Alliance filing in behind him. There was a manic glint in his eyes as he shouldered a black con out of the way.
"Yo man, watch were your goin'." T-Bag turned then, a leering grin slipping across his lips.
"Ya know the problem with you blackies is that once you got your freedom, ya got cocky."
"What you just say man?"
"Oh you heard me boy, I'm sayin' go back to Africa cause you ain't wanted here." The con leapt at him and T-Bag eagerly jumped to meet him. He barely felt the fist that collided with his face as his left hand wrapped around the collar of the other's jacket and his right hand slipped out the shank, ramming the small blade over and over again into the other man's stomach. He felt hot liquid spill over his hands and he went down, the already dead con collapsing on him. Panting, T-Bag slipped the knife back into his pocket and wiggled out from underneath the corpse, putting his hands into the air and sitting up.
"Boy attacked me! Weren't nothin' I could do!" He begin repeating as badges flocked into the yard. "Sorry Boss." T-Bag said to Bellick, pretending to look all shaken up. "Self-defence, he were crazy and just comin' for me. Like I said, weren't nothin' I could do." Bellick glared at him and then slowly a smirk touched his lips.
"And I thought you didn't like solitude."
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Sleep had become wishful thinking. It was always dark, there were always shadows, but they seemed to loom more so in T-Bag's mind.
"Lisa." He called softly and then clenched his hands together. He'd been doing that all day…or all night, or whatever the hell time it was. Silence was the only response that he had.
"You there Baby Blue Eyes?" He called again. Laughter erupted from him and tears stung his eyes, no sleep for a prolonged time could reduce anyone to hysterics. "Ya know I killed a man cause of you. Yup, I may be a murderer, but you drove me to it." T-Bag gave a small giggle. "Hear that Baby Blue Eyes, cause o' you somebody's dead." Still there was no reply and T-Bag gave up, lapsing into silence once again.
The flap opened and food was dumped on the ground. T-Bag scuttled forward then, a feverish light in his eyes.
"Boss! Hold up for a sec, I just-I just need to ask you somethin'."
"Shut up freak."
"Ya, good one Boss, hahahahahaha. But listen, can ya turn on the lights for just a sec. Only, I just want to make sure of somethin'."
"Ha! You belong in the Wack Shack Bagwell." The flap slammed close and the guard's footsteps died away. T-Bag cursed and slithered back into his corner, his shirt reeked of dried blood.
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T-Bag's stomach was like a constricting knot and each time he thought of food the pain would grow more immense. For a while he was able to distract his mind, think on something else, but now the harder he tried not to concentrate on the fact, the worse his hunger became.
The inmate squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his stomach, cursing Lisa McAdams. His body started to rock back and forth as memories from his childhood swamped his mind.
"I love you Teddy. Special boy. Mommy loves ya." A young woman was whispering feverishly as she rocked her baby back and forth, holding him tightly in her arms. The baby mewed meekly, plump arms and legs squirming in a jerky fashion. The woman began to sing, her voice an off-tune crooning that drowned out the ever-weakening cries of the baby. After a while the mother stopped her song and looked at the now silent child.
"Why ain't you sayin' somethin' Teddy? Teddy? Wake up baby." The mother picked up her child and held up the small boy before her eyes, watching his arms and legs hang limply, his small round head falling down onto his pale chest. "Teddy why ain't you talkin' to me? Are you mad at me Teddy? I'm sorry Teddy! I'm sorry, just please wake up baby!" She started to shake him first gently and then a little harder so his head was rolling slightly. A frustrated sob escaped from her and tears slid down her cheeks. "Talk to me!"
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"Daddy I'm cold." A small boy of seven yelled from the corner of his room, shivering in a snotty grey shirt and dirty underwear.
"Shut up Teddy, I'm tryin' ta watch the game!" Teddy was silent until he felt the familiar pangs of hunger.
"Daddy I'm hungry!" He called.
"Get ya own fuckin' food moron! Old enough to be lookin' after yeself! And if ya don't shut up I'll make ya!" Teddy was still for a moment before clambering to his feet and staggering into the filthy kitchen. He cast a wary glance at his father who had collapsed onto his favourite, and only, chair and was watching the fuzzy TV screen that somehow portrayed a game of baseball. Nervously, the boy climbed up onto the kitchen counter, avoiding old tin cans and beer cans, opening one of the cupboards and peering inside. A slice of stale bread was there and eagerly the boy grabbed it and crammed it into his mouth, chewing greedily. He closed his eyes and worked his jaw hard, savouring the taste. Finally Teddy turned and prepared to jump down, but as he did so, the cans that he had once been so careful of were knocked over and Teddy fell to the floor, a shrill scream echoing in the kitchen as a tin can lid cut open his palm.
"I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!"
T-Bag grimaced and opened his eyes, peering up into the layers of darkness. For so long he had been staying alive, fighting to survive. And for what? Only to wait for death? Well hell no! T-Bag was his own man, and he'd die on his own terms!
Feverishly he grabbed the sparse blanket that covered the cast iron bed and began to knot it, all the while muttering darkly. As soon as he was done, he carefully laid the makeshift rope on themattress and then climbed atop the bed, reaching out into the darkness and feeling the small pipes that ran along the top of the cell. The engineers who had built this place had been merciful.
T-Bag continued to mutter as he picked up the twisted bed sheet and first tied it around the pipe and then slipped the noose over his own neck.
"You've got the scrawniest neck I've ever seen Teddy. Ya know that? I could snap it right now if I wanted to. I could fucking kill you if I wanted to"
"Fuck you!" T-Bag screamed suddenly, tears clouding his vision. A slight breeze crawled into the cell and then became a howling inferno as T-Bag's mutterings now rose to enraged screams.
Lisa McAdams sat on the bed, those sad angelic blue eyes on her murderer and her pink lips turned downwards.
"What do you want from me!" T-Bag screamed, snot running from his nose and onto his lips as saliva dribbled down his chin. "What the fuck do you want from me!" The girl began to hum and her lips turned upwards into a small smile as shesang out a nursery rhyme in her sweet childish voice.
"Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top..."
"Leave me alone! Just leave me the fuck alone!"
"When the wind blows the cradle will rock..."
"You ain't smart Teddy. You're a freak. A retarded freak."
"When the blough breaks the cradle will fall..."
"I love you Teddy. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"And down will come baby, cradle and all."