DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of The Green Mile characters, Stephen King does. I'm just a big fan with a little idea about it!

Percy Wetmore stood at the window of the Briar Ridge Mental Hospital, unresponsive to any outer influences. The whiny brat who had annoyed all the guards at Cold Mountain penitentiary was now completely silent and emotionless. He was originally supposed to be working at the hospital at this time, and ironically became a patient instead. It appeared to many that the man had simply gone insane and was now catatonic. For weeks he stood, eyes transfixed and unblinking at one mark in the atmosphere. He would not move without the push and encouragement of others. His only means of transportation around the hospital was a drugged shuffle as nurses led him around. The other guards at the penitentiary where he used to work felt justice had been done and went on easily with their lives.

One evening, the evening of John Coffey's execution, some nurses noticed a stirring in their formerly still patient. As the electric chair jolted John Coffey to eventual death at Cold Mountain, Percy writhed about in his bed, seemingly having seizure after seizure. It was a scary, horrific sight. The previous corpse-like institutionalized Percy was now flopping about like a fish out of water. The nurses rushed in and let the seizures take their course, which was about five minutes of torturous viewing. He burbled spit from the corners of his mouth as fresh urine dribbled on the bedclothes, onlooker nurses gasping as they watched his helpless body strewn about like a loose puppet.

Once the seizures had stopped, a tranquilizer was administered, and the now- calm-as-ever Percy fell asleep. The nurses left his room after half-hour vigilance to see if any more seizures would take place. There was no use in tying the man down, since it was known that one must let a fit run its course. No more seizures occurred, and it had seemed as if they had never happened.

The next morning, Percy woke up blinking. He hadn't blinked noticeably since before the shooting at the prison. As they entered the room to change his robe, the nurses gaped at the sight of Percy sitting up in bed, blinking from the sunlight streaming through the windowpane. Soon a group of five nurses stood in the doorway, amazed at the difference the seizures had made.

"Maybe the seizures yesterday helped him."

"Well, thank God for that. Perhaps he'll get to leave this place." The whisperings were filled with excitement.

"Yeah, he may not have to stay in this institution forever. It'd be such a waste of such a young life."

"—But he'll be sent somewhere worse instead. Prison, more'n likely. Did you hear what he did?"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. He killed some prisoner on death row down at Cold Mountain, but what's so bad 'bout killin' a prisoner already on death row? Gonna die soon enough anyhow…."

"He unloaded a gun into the man's body, Betsy…."

Soon the nurses focused full attention to Percy. He was now gazing at them from his seat upon the bed. He hadn't made eye contact with anyone the whole time he had been at Briar Ridge. Although they had been watching intently, the nurses practically jumped when suddenly, the man jerked away from his seat and glared down disgusted at the wet stain on the bedding. Filled with distaste of the smelly substance, Percy slid out of bed, wobbling shakily on his formerly unused legs and gaping down at the pee stain on the front of his gown. He looked up angrily at the nurses, then ripped the blanket off of his bed and wrapped it around himself.

One of the nurses stepped forward bravely, attempting to help the newly awoken patient.

"Let me help you get a new gown. That one's soiled."

It appeared as if Percy was going to say something, but instead he glared silently. As the nurse approached him, he backed up cautiously towards the window until the nurse and a few cohorts behind her eventually cornered him. With a terrified look in his eyes, he held his hands defensively in front of him until the nurse persuaded him to accept the new clothing.

Once Percy was out of the wet garments, he was led flanked by two nurses to the doctor's office. As he stood outside of the door, the head nurse spoke of his condition to the doctor. The doctor was a middle-aged man of 53, with salt-and-pepper hair and a professional appearance, with his thick glasses and neatly trimmed goatee and moustache. He looked up from his paperwork as the head nurse entered the room.

"Doctor Jones, yesterday evening a patient, Percy Wetmore, went into a terrible uproar of seizures. He had seizures for a full five minutes then the next morning snapped out of his catatonic state. Now he is responsive to his environment and now moves his eyes around to look at things."

Dr. Jones sat up. "Well, send the kid in here. I'll take a look at him, see if he's competent." The nurse turned to leave and opened the door for Percy to enter.

Percy entered the room with eyes downcast and took a seat in the padded chair in front of the doctor's desk.

"Hello there, Percy," Dr. Jones said warmly. "I heard that you snapped out of your little reverie. Is that so?" Percy continued to stare at the floor. The doctor leaned forward cautiously and snapped his fingers in front of the quiet man's face. Percy blinked involuntarily.

"See, I knew you were playing around, Percy," he asserted. "Now, look up at me like a good boy."

Percy seemed to not hear him, so the doctor lifted Percy's chin up so the patient would be looking in his general direction. Once Percy was generally looking at him, Dr. Jones slouched back and observed. The silence went by for about thirty seconds, then the silence was broken when the patient sighed, blinked a few times, and looked at the doctor as if to say "what do you want?"

"Can you talk?" asked the doctor. Percy opened and closed his mouth gingerly, but didn't speak, then shook his head ashamedly and looked down at the floor. The doctor could see the kid was trying but was still suspicious about his actions. The well-educated psychiatrist assumed that Percy Wetmore was faking his ailments so that he would not have to go to prison for shooting William Wharton to death, even though Wharton was an inmate at the time. Murder is murder, and Percy was guilty of it.

After the visit to the doctor's office, Percy underwent a serious of rehabilitation programs to regain his speech. Within time, the hospital staff realized that the patient had amnesia and couldn't remember anything about his past. He even had to be instructed to respond to his name again. Progress was slow, and Percy would get up, agitated at the stress, and try to leave the room. After struggling against burly male nurses, he would be brought back to his seat to continue lessons. Even after having his memory and brain completely wiped of all information, Percy still retained the bad attitude known by the prison guards of Cell Block E. His ever- obvious cocky demeanor caused many staff members to dislike him, and the doctor still didn't trust his speech affliction.

After many weeks of solitude, Percy acquired a roommate, a short scruffy schizophrenic that resembled Eduard Delacroix. Percy did not remember Del, but immediately formed a dislike of the present man invading his privacy. Most of the time Charlie, the roommate, was quiet and stayed as far away from Percy as possible. Sometimes, however, he would snap out of his shy usual personality and become a rowdy partier, a childish little girl, a dangerous prison inmate, or any possible combination of traits, and these new personalities would come out of nowhere. When silence and loneliness filled the room as certain sensitive or friendly "people" in Charlie prevailed, the roommate attempted to be kind and small talk with Percy, but his attempts were to no avail. As weeks passed, he couldn't stand not talking to anyone, so he began talking to himself to pass the hours. Percy hated the odd conversation, and would occasionally vocalize with a scoff or growl to show his contempt. He never spoke to Charlie, and kicked the roommate's possessions whenever they were near his side of the room. Rage constantly raced through Percy's mind, for the temporary insanity hadn't affected his way of thinking.

On evening, Charlie, while displaying another personality, screamed at Percy to fix his bed.

"If you don't fix your bed, boy, you're a-gittin' a whoopin'!"

Percy sighed as he arose from a seated position on the opposite side of the bed. Once he realized that Charlie was speaking to him, he sneered at the angry "mother". Charlie, in his mother personality, felt as if his "child" was sassing him back and stomped angrily towards the defiant Percy. He was hardly imposing, for his 5'5" height was a bit less than Percy's 5'6".

"You defyin' me, boy?! I'll show you!"

He raged up in Percy's face, arms flailing with passion for his cause. Percy stood smugly and wickedly smiled with arms crossed, watching the man in front of him act like a fool. Unexpectedly, the schizophrenic pulled back his arm and whacked Percy –hard- across the face. Shocked, Percy stumbled backwards, grabbing his face as his eyes involuntarily welled up at the hot sting. Within an instant rage replaced his initial shock.

"Why you son-of-a-bitch! I'm a-gonna kill you!" Suddenly his usual lack of speech disintegrated in his stupendous rage of high emotion. Percy then raced at Charlie at a mad dash, the schizophrenic having let out his pent-up motherly rage and resting at the moment. Immediately Percy was upon the little man, punching him with sharp blows in the face until Charlie fell to the ground. Crimson blood seeped from the roommate's lips as he tried desperately to defend himself. Percy was still slamming the helpless man with his fists even while the man was down.

"Help me! Pul-leeze! Somebody!" Charlie screamed at the top of his lungs as another blow broke his nose. A thick red trail of blood dribbled from the mangled nostrils and rubbed off on Percy's pounding fists. The former prison guard was merciless with his attacks. He had begun kicking Charlie when finally a group of nurses arrived at the scene, shocked at the awful sight. Seemingly quiet, withdrawn Percy was in a monstrous frenzy. Charlie would have no chance if they allowed the beating to continue any longer.

The nurses had expected Percy to stop the beating once he had realized the consequences of being caught in the act. However, the obviously winded attacker continued thrashing and slamming Charlie without any sense of remorse or conscience. Although the man was small in stature and didn't have a muscular build, he kicked and punched and beat Charlie like a street fighter.

Eventually the nurses yanked Percy off of the schizophrenic. They dragged his struggling figure down the smooth white-tiled hallway and tossed him in a padded room of the institution. "Lemme go, you lugoons! I didn't do nothing! It was that damn roommate of mine's fault!"

Little did he know, he had been in a padded room when he was sane and working as a prison guard; the guards had put him there the day he went mad. And here he was, now in an insane asylum, being thrown in the room again screaming his head off. The nurses did not have time to put a strait jacket on him, for they had to alert the doctors about the outburst and give his roommate medical attention. Charlie was wheeled via stretcher to the infirmary, barely breathing and covered in nasty bruises and gashes. Percy, on the other hand, slammed his body up against the door every few seconds, demanding to be let out of the small dark room. Dressed in his white johnny, a maroon slipper on one foot (the other had fallen off in the hallway struggle), he hardly looked the part he was currently playing. With teeth and fists bared, the man in the dark room was a terrible sight to behold.

After a week in the infirmary for internal and external bruising and a few broken fingers, Charlie was brought back to his room; however, his fears of meeting up with Percy again were assuaged; Percy's permanent room was the padded cell at the end of the hallway. There was a small commode cemented against the right-hand corner of the far wall, covered in all possible places with cushioning, and a twin-size mattress chained down to the floor near the toilet. A narrow, barred window was the only light entering the room. Every morning nurses would slide in a rubber tray of food, only to be found uneaten the next day. Percy had become pale and sickly in appearance, and seemed drugged each time he was seen.

One morning, upon entering Percy's padded room for routine patient inspection, the nurse in charge walked in apprehensively to find Percy lying on the mattress on his stomach, pillowcase over head. She crept silently over to tug the fabric off of his face to prevent asphyxiation. As she went to pull the pillowcase over his head, a hand shot out from his seemingly motionless body and seized her arm. Before she could utter a cry, Percy had twisted the arm until a crack was heard.

"Oh no… OWWW!" the nurse cried. Percy began to curse in a menacing growl as he lifted himself off the mattress, still holding on to the nurse's arm, a twisted snarl on his face glaring into the nurse's very soul.

"I can't BELIEVE you people force me to stay in this hell-hole when I done NOTHING wrong in the firs' place!" Percy growled. "I'm leavin', whether you let me or not!"

He rose to a standing position, and then all of a sudden shoved the nurse as hard as he could into the toilet corner, the corner furthest from the door. With the nurse incapacitated, he strode off angrily into the hallway. A group of nurses were waiting with needles poised, but the little madman dodged through them and ran towards the open staircase door.

Quickening his pace, Percy leapt down the flight of stairs to the first floor door. Now barefoot and dressed in flimsy garments, he could run without tripping, and he yanked open the door with full exertion, slamming it into the opposite wall. Upon opening it, he ran into three nurses standing in the lobby, not expecting to find a demented lunatic attempting escape. They immediately realized the patient was not supposed to be on the first floor as he glared at them with mischief and anger boiling in his eyes. Before he could rush past them, the nurses reached toward him, pushing him back into the stairwell. Percy immediately retreated, attempting to turn around while running back up the stairs. The two male nurses and one female were bigger than he was and could cause him a lot of damage.

Percy tried doggedly to speed up the stairs, but one nurse was quick and grabbed him by the back of his flimsy johnny and pulled him back down. Percy's eyes went blank and he stood stiff and scared, standing on tiptoe as the nurse hoisted him off the ground. The hold on his garments choked his neck a bit, so when the nurse let up, he immediately started gasping, exaggerating slightly for pity from his attacker. His trick worked, and the man completely released his grip, allowing Percy to run further up the stairs. This time, he avoided the nurses' grasping and opened the door to the second floor of the institution. Panting wildly and covered with sweat, Percy sped into a room, preparing to escape through a window. Once inside, he yanked open the pane to find… Bars! Percy turned around just in time to see a half dozen nurses standing in the doorway, arms outstretched to grab him. He backed up against the red brick wall, hatred reflecting in his maniacal eyes, as he began to vent his rage.

"I am sick of this shitty institution, ya'll, and I STILL don't understand why you're even keepin' me here!" He crossed his arms in defiance. "I wanna leave! When am I gonna be able to leave?"

"You may be fortunate, kid," a male nurse stated. "After this episode, we don't know if we're capable of handling your outbursts."

"'Bout damn time," Percy sighed. He slicked back his sweaty hair with one hand, afterwards crossing his arms again.

"Now, you're going to have to return to your room until we decide what to do with you. Step forward, Wetmore."

Percy at first hesitated, but stepped forward.

"Now that we know you aren't catatonic, but perhaps faking this ailment, we can send you where you truly deserve to be sent."

Percy smiled smugly, but once he saw the sly knowing grins on the nurses' faces, he grew tense. "What do you mean by that?" he inquired cautiously.

"You'll see, boy." Percy gulped.

After a week of study by Doctor Jones on his newly maniacal patient, it was decided that Percy would be sent to prison to complete his sentence. Because of his "fake catatonia" his sentence would be increased slightly, and since he could not testify for himself in the trial, with so much evidence against him and him being amnesiac, Percy was instructed to carry out his punishment.

On the day of his trial, his fellow guards, Brutal, Dean, Harry, and Paul testified against him, and the public defender assigned to him did not even believe Percy's case. The guards felt guilty for not telling the whole truth about the incident, but weren't questioned to have to admit about John Coffey. Besides, no one would believe their story anyway. It was too crazy to be true; Coffey giving Percy the "black hoard of flies" that crazed him. Coffey couldn't testify; he was dead. The doctor of the mental ward testified that Percy had been "faking" the ailment, since it seemed too odd to him for Percy to seizure then come back to reality. Poetic justice had been done, and we guards realized a true miracle in the punishment of Percy. With the testimony given, it was proven that Percy was not insane at the time of murder; he was enraged at "Wild Bill." Percy wasn't even allowed to go to the trial; he had to remain in restraints at Briar Ridge.

Percy Wetmore: Guilty of second-degree murder of William Wharton. Sentence: five years at Cold Mountain Penitentiary. His uncle, the ex- governor (for he had been beaten in the recent election) managed to reduce his sentence slightly by about a year or two, but five years was a long time for an inmate. Percy had had a motive (being humiliated and violated by Wharton), but no planned-out murder. He was able to attend the sentencing trial, and sat stiffly at the defense table stunned but amazingly composed, instead vainly attempting to remember the guards who knew him so well. No recollection of his days walking on the green mile popped up in his empty mind as he sat stoically.

Strolling out of court out to the paddy wagon after the sentencing, Paul Edgecombe pointed out to his fellow guards an important fact, for they all felt slightly guilty. "You know, fellas, we couldn't save John Coffey from ridin' the lightnin' when he was innocent, and we lived through that. These five years of punishment for Percy shouldn't make anybody feel at fault. The boy is bad, and Coffey could sense it in 'im. Perhaps he'll change now, experiencin' prison life."

On the day of Percy's transfer to Cold Mountain, Harry and Dean appeared to bring Percy in. When they arrived, the man once resembling Percy was now a trembling, weak individual with tired eyes and a pale complexion.

"C'mon, kid, you know the routine. Slip off your clothes like a good boy." The guards held the prison blues open for Percy to stick his legs into. The hospital patient cringed at these words and backed away slowly from the men. Harry and Dean followed Percy to the wall, trapping him in a corner. The pale man froze with fear as the guards changed his clothes and chained his hands behind his back. Slowly, they led him down the hallway out of the institution, in the direction of the awaiting paddy wagon. Brutal waited inside, quite nervous, should the kid recognize him and then recall the punishment he received in the padded room.

Brutal stared out through the smeared glass of the windshield, wringing his hands. Ever since the execution of John Coffey, he was a more God-fearing, timid man. He and Paul had moved off E block and were now floaters around the normal prison blocks. Percy's cell was positioned in the tougher young block, the block with most of the prison's rapists and armed robbers, C Block, also known as "Cruel" Block . These men were strong and brawny, and not a combined force to be reckoned with. The former guard would be having trouble with these men.

Opening the glove compartment, Brutal found it to be full of paper bags and butcher's twine. "Ugh, that damn Percy stuffed all his leftovers where he'd thought we'd never look…" He reached in gingerly, pulling out a load of smashed bread crusts and sunflower seed shells mixed with the greasy paper and plastic containments. "Hope the little brat never retains his memory."

Paul stood waiting outside Percy's new cell, anxiously pacing between cells. Occasionally he stopped to small talk with inmates asking about the new arrival. Soon the paddy wagon, called the "stagecoach," containing Percy would be pulling up into the prison courtyard. He thought deeply to himself.

1.1 -Paul-

I truly know now that John Coffey was a true miracle. He sure did punish Percy. And helped us, too, havin' Percy not remember anything anymore. Course, there's really no way to defend Percy, since he was just getting revenge on Wild Bill. Coffey didn't cause it; he just edged the man on. That's not enough to get Percy off, anyway.

Percy arrived at the prison just after a few days' downpour and was shoved out of the stagecoach into thick wet mud. I heard later that when his foot started slipping in the gooey dirt, causing a loss of balance, our new inmate glared up into the eyes of Brutal and Harry. "Watch it, you clunks," he nagged. "If I fall you'll all be sorry."

Just as the two guards were about to sigh, us previously having to ignore Percy's remarks, Brutal's eyes lit up. He realized that now we could do whatever we wanted to Percy, for the kid was now an inmate, no better than the scum of the earth. Well, he had been scum while as a guard, only now he wore the true uniform for his position in the world.

Much to the surprise of arrogant Percy, Brutal spun him around roughly until they were face to face (actually about face to chest, for Brutal was almost a full foot taller than the brat) and grabbed hold of his shoulders. With a grim stare directed into Percy's very soul, he explained the situation at hand. "Now, you listen here, you little prick, if you smart back at ANY of us guards or disregard our orders, we have a right to beat you within an inch of your pathetic life. You understand, son?" Brutal released his hold and crossed his hulking arms, preparing to see the inmate's reaction.

Percy's eyes were wide as saucers, and his mouth gaped open. He hadn't been expecting an ultimatum, and didn't know how to handle it. His face paled as he stared up in wonder at the big guard who had just reprimanded him.

"Do you understand me, kid? Or do I have to beat it into you?"

Brutal's command snapped Percy out of his stunned reverie. "Geez," he mumbled exasperatingly to himself.

Suddenly, a hard slap across the face from angry Brutal nearly sent Percy sprawling into the very muck he had been complaining about. He touched the hot red palm mark on his left cheek, rubbing it as his eyes watered. Soon tears were flowing and Percy was too ashamed to make any more eye contact with Brutal or Harry. "Yes…" he murmured quietly, "I understand…."

The remainder of the trip into C Block was quiet, with Percy obedient, even as he slipped clumsily every few steps, with Harry yanking him up to keep him steady. One shove from Brutal was too hard. Percy went down on his knees onto the muddy ground, thick brown stains on the front of his denim jeans.

"Now, look what you done to yourself," Harry muttered.

"I didn-" Percy began, but when he saw Brutal's poisonous glare burning into his head, he sighed dejectedly and rose back up. The two men lead the youth into the darkened brick cellblock, as Dean locked up the gates behind them.

Once inside, the guards escorted Percy to his cell, where I was waiting tensely. I stood up quickly, seeing the thick mass of mud on the front of Percy's clothes. Attempting to avoid the nerve-racking welcome, I stepped forward briskly, eyeing the boy up and down. His hair was in sweaty tumbles on his forehead, and he was trying to catch his breath in shallow gulps of air. As he stood nervously with hands cuffed behind his back, I spoke up with confidence.

"Now, fellas, I am NOT havin' an inmate put into a cell in this condition!" I yelled as I pointed at Percy's pathetic figure. "Shower the kid off and give 'im some clean clothes, then he'll be fit to move in."

Percy gulped at the sound of the word "shower" and his face paled. He was probably thinking that he was going to be stared at while totally naked in front of the guards. When we had to give our E Block inmates a shower, we'd lead 'em into the shower room and leave 'em be. Course, I wasn't sure how Percy treated the showering inmates while he was a guard. He probably beat their exposed skin, since that's the kind of person he is.

As the guards led him down the hall, his figure grew stiff and he had to practically be dragged down to the shower room. Since he had came at prison lunchtime, no prisoners would be in the shower room. The kid was lucky, for when others were in there, he'd definitely be stared at, and worse.

When Percy returned, he was shivering in his wrinkled new prison blues. His hair was slicked back into its old style, for when he had entered the prison it had tumbled onto his face in various curls. His face was sullen and his demeanor embarrassed. Apparently he had taken a hot shower, for his skin was blotted red on his arms and cheeks. Brutal tried to stifle laughter as he led the cuffed Percy on his right arm, while Harry held the other arm. Dean had stayed with me, telling me about the mud incident. He hadn't seen everything that had happened, but it was pretty damn close to Brutal's story he would later tell me.

As Percy entered his cell, he eyed me suspiciously, but didn't show any sign of recognition. I gave him the usual inmate speech and he sat down on his cot in the small brick cell that was to be his home for quite some time. A shiver went down my spine as the barred gate slammed shut, echoing eerily through the prison. Now Percy, the hated enemy of guards and inmates alike, was sitting in a cell just like the worst of society. He sat hunched with elbows on knees, kicking little pebbles around on the cold concrete floor. I walked away, wondering what was going through his mind.

"Brutal, what are you guys laughin' about?" I questioned Brutal. The amusement on his face was so obvious I just had to get in on it. Besides, Percy didn't appear harmed and I needed some entertainment.

"Well, we went to the shower room and stood outside the door, waiting for him to get done. Turns out, there was one other inmate in there and we were holdin' Percy's towels and clothes. He had to— " Brutal cracked up at this. "He had to shower with that guy while the guy stared at him, so he tried to persuade Harry and I to spare him the humiliation. Of course, we refused. After we peeked in a couple times to make sure he was showering, Percy came out, white as a ghost in the face. I could tell he was absolutely terrified… Serves the dickhead right!" I chuckled a bit, then considered his horrid fear when all the men were in there. He was surely going to get it, and wouldn't be able to fight 'em off. Well, he asked for it, killin' Wild Bill. Does his murdering a murderer justify Percy's harsh punishment? I disliked the kid, but was a gang rape justified punishment for cowardly Percy?

That night I went home but couldn't fall asleep. Thoughts about the new life with Percy on the inside kept me awake and nervous. I trod downstairs and opened the refrigerator to get some milk to drink. Milk always has helped me sleep, except it was useless when I had my urinary infection. Of course, that's not a problem now. Neither are flues. My wife had the flu horrible the week of Coffey's execution, and somehow I avoided it. I had even kissed her passionately several times with no thought of consequence. Jan came downstairs in her flowery nightgown and stood above me, hugging me from behind. "What's wrong, Paul?" she questioned gently. "You thinkin' 'bout Percy?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," I answered honestly. "Now the kid's behind bars and I'm in charge of him. I hope he's changed from the whiny little prick he used to be. Don't know if I'll be able to stand him if he's the same as before."

"Well, he's in the place he should have been in years ago, Paul, and now he doesn't have protection." She sat down in the seat nearest in front of me. "Come to bed, Paul. Percy's surely not worth a good night's rest."

I agreed heartily and strode back upstairs to attempt sleep again. This time it must have came, for I awoke when the alarm clock buzzed for work.

When I arrived at work, slightly sleep deprived, I strolled down the line of cells, dreading to see what was in store at Percy's cell. However, when I reached his cell, I found him wrapped up in the starched white sheets, in a mass on the sunken cot, deep in sleep. I eyed his motionless body suspiciously, as if suddenly he would jerk up and give me a heart attack. I had heard about his episode at Briar Ridge, and was prepared for it, even though he couldn't physically touch me. During all the years on E Block, I learned to keep away from the cells, and even Percy was taught a lesson with that. I walked by safely and resumed my cell examination.

At lunchtime all the cell doors were slid open as each inmate stood in front of their respective cells. I surveyed each line of inmates to find that Percy hadn't emerged. "Cell 234, present yourself."

A few seconds passed and Percy still hadn't shown himself. A sharp feeling of dread filled my stomach as I prayed that the boy hadn't killed himself. "Wetmore, get out here!" I yelled. Within moments, Percy strolled out lazily, rubbing his eyes sleepily. I had to avoid any softness on my part. "Wetmore, if you do that again, you're getting solitary!"

"What's that?" he quipped harshly.

"You'll find out soon enough, boy," I replied.

Percy stopped his casual act and stood obediently in the inmate line. He didn't even make a reply when I called the commands for inmate movement on the block, and it was quite obvious he had no idea what he was doing. The prisoners trod down the stairs to the cafeteria, a dark plain basement room, quite large but extremely dull. As each took a tray and accepted food, I concentrated on Percy's actions. He received his meal and walked tensely to an empty table. Some inmates had already been seated, and acknowledged the new guy. "What'cha doin' over by yourself, big boy? Puttin' on yer makeup?" a bearded convicted rapist jeered. Percy ignored the man completely, but the man continued mocking Percy's soft look and every aspect of his personality. I had other duties, so I hesitantly left the cafeteria to head towards the Boy's Correctional facility for the day.

It's not as if I wanted to see Percy cry like a baby when the inmate put a fist through his face; I just wanted Percy to know how it felt being completely helpless to stop constant annoyance. Although we guards could do more against him than he could against the prisoners, it had been impossible for us to rid E Block of him completely because of his 'connections'. If Percy had known his connections at this moment in time, he would use that as a defense against the others and he'd probably be killed within the first week of his sentence. I left the cafeteria, however, with a sense of relief. No longer today did I have to analyze his actions and feel the burden of responsibility if he should die. If I witnessed his death, his uncle'd probably have a big juicy story about how the E Block guards single-handedly sabotaged his reputation and health. Once confrontations started after I was gone, his fate was not under my control and I could rest in ease.

When I returned the next morning to C Block, Percy stepped out of his cell with a busted lip and black eye. His hair was mangled and it appeared as if he had been crying, for his good eye was reddened and puffy from tears. He was a pitiful sight, but I forced myself not to feel any sympathy for the man who "killed" Mr. Jingles, sabotaged an execution, and made the guards' lives miserable. I had to stay on C Block all day so I had to watch Percy get the crap beat out of him. Well, I had wanted to do it myself at times.

At shower time I went to Percy's cell to bring him down to the shower room. As I ordered the gate slid open, Percy was pretending to be asleep, and I could easily tell he was faking, for he was trembling like a leaf on his squeaky cot. "Get up, Percy," I commanded. He didn't move. "I know you're faking, so get up. Don't you wanna be clean?"

"No…." I heard a low muffled moan come from Percy as he turned to look at me. "I don't ever want a shower. Please let me stay here, please…."

"C'mon, you have to get used to it sooner or later. Stand up!"

Percy rubbed his tearful eyes and sat on the cot looking up at me with utter fear reflecting in the cold gray-blue. "Please don't make me go down there. Put me on some workin' duty or somethin'. Anything but a shower, please." He grabbed my hand with both his slender white hands. He hadn't worked hard a day in his life. His hands were freezing cold, and I jerked my hand back almost as soon as he had grasped it.

"I'm sorry, it's my job to get you to take a shower. Stand up and turn around."

Percy let out the most pitiful sobs I have ever heard, like a little child whose puppy has just died in front of him. "Be a man, or you'll be fresh meat for these guys."

"I already am," he moaned. "Look at me. Do I look like some weight lifter to you?" He slammed his fists angrily on the mattress. "I don't want to take a shower," he stated coldly as he glared at me.

I took out my club and held it at an angle to whack him, although I don't think I ever could have at that moment. Percy was right; he was an easy target. At the threat of a beating, Percy stood up and obligingly faced the wall with head drooped hopelessly. I handcuffed him, since it was customary to handcuff hesitant inmates who would otherwise disobey orders. He walked silently, with an icy silence of hatred that I could feel resonating into my skin like lashings of frozen wind cutting painfully into exposed parts of my being. He gave me no more pleading looks, but instead continued with harsh courage. I dropped him off and uncuffed him at the room as the shower door shut behind the lines of nude inmates.

2 -The Shower-

Percy entered the shower room with great apprehension once he realized Paul had left him. Clusters of naked men gathered around the tarnished showerheads, bathing as if it were a completely normal part of life. He stood with arms crossed and knees locked in the far corner by the door, scanning the room for empty showerheads or an absence of people. During his pouting in his corner of the room, the door opened behind him and hairy tattooed men slammed into his back, causing him to slide across the slippery wet floor into a few showering inmates. All at once the angered, sex-starved men ripped off Percy's clothes and violated him in the worst way possible. Percy tried in vain to wrestle off the men, but once two or three ganged up on him, it was too late. They muffled his mouth with a washrag and held a razor to his throat, attempting to calm his thrashing limbs, as he endured the torture from the ruthless men. In the end, the bruised and violated prisoner had two black eyes, a broken jaw, various slices from the razor along his neck and chest, and bruising all over his body, in addition to the internal damage.

Afterwards, the inmates tossed Percy's limp figure into the moldy brick wall in the far corner of the room and dressed to return to their cells. They did it so casually that when Percy's unconscious body was found in the dark corner, no inmates had been punished and Percy was brought to the infirmary for treatment.

3 -Paul-

When I returned to collect Percy from the shower, I learned that he had had the shit kicked out of him –literally (well, more like pushed, sorry for the dark humor)– and he was now at the infirmary. For now the kid was out of my hands, so relief was mine for the day.

Later on I found Brutal and told him about the incident in the cafeteria and the more recent and dangerous shower incident.

"I heard that Percy was in pretty bad shape cause of those guys. He's been more humiliated and violated than he's ever been in his life."

"Well, you must recall, Paul, his remembered life. I'm so thankful that kid's got some amnesiac condition or somethin' along that line."

"John Coffey did what he did on purpose. To protect our good names, I suppose." I shook my head. "I can't believe we let him ride the lightning." Brutal didn't say anything, but nodded agreement.

"I think pretty soon, Paul, Percy's gonna pay what he's owed to all the guards –and prisoners– of E block."

"…If he lasts long enough, that is…." I added sullenly.

Percy returned to his cell in a few days with thick white gauze wrapped around his head. His eyes were bruised and swollen and several bloody bandages surrounded his neck, hiding ugly deep slices from rusty inmate razors. He hadn't seen me staring at his pathetic condition, for he had fallen asleep while sitting fully clothed on the toilet. For a brief second, I thought I felt regret for bringing him to the shower when he had been so against it, but the feeling left me as soon as it had come. Besides, I shouldn't feel guilty for doing my job. Percy didn't care who got hurt. Hell, Dean was almost killed in front of his very eyes and he didn't do a thing to prevent it. I couldn't prevent a gift of God from dying, and I surely won't go out of my way for Percy. It's his problem if he gets assaulted or raped. The kid should mind his own business, and he'll be fine.

A few mornings later I crossed in front of Percy's cell to find that the resilient kid was awake, and standing at the bars with thin fingers wrapped around tightly. "Hey Edgecombe," he called coarsely. "I put total blame on you for sending me to that damned shower room."

"Well, Percy, that's your opinion. Maybe if you were like everyone else— "

He cut me off. "Just shut up! I am not like everyone else! I don't belong here! If something happens to me you'll pay dearly!"

I forced myself not to crush his exposed fingers with my club, but instead calmly asked, "What do you mean by that, pay dearly?" I wondered if his memory returned and he'd be reciting his connections.

"I know a big man in the cafeteria who would kill you at the slightest whim. If he heard that you caused my demise, he'll be on you so fast you won't know whether to shit or wind your wristwatch."

All of a sudden I was reminded of William Wharton, but Percy didn't have the drive to make friends or comrades or even threaten successfully.

"You haven't made any friends, kid; you're just pulling my leg. They'll sodomize you til you are inside out before they'd smile at you or cut you a deal. As a guard, the prisoners naturally don't like me, but I don't give a damn, so you better shut your mouth before I personally cause your demise."

Percy took his hands back off the bars and glared at me fiercely, but I could sense the obvious fear in those previously blackened eyes. He studied me disbelievingly, as if trying to find untruth in what I had told him. He turned around with back hunched, head shaking like a bobbing-head animal, and made a complete circle as he came back to the bars with slight confidence. "I wanna know what you mean, cause my demise…" he demanded.

"Simple. I yank you out of your cell and beat you with this club til your heart stops, or I tell one of the trustees to sodomize your ass."

With mouth agape, eyes wide and scared, and sweat running off his greasy, disheveled hair (for he hadn't had a shower since the incident a week ago), Percy looked away and didn't regain eye contact with me. He instead walked sullenly to his cot and sat down, devastated. The simple threat I hadn't wanted to share with him totally shut his loud mouth, and I knew he wouldn't threaten me again.

As I walked away feeling a bit better about the situation with Percy, he took one last glance at me, but didn't focus his eyes any higher than the top button on my uniform jacket. I had finally put him in his place, or so I hoped.