Author's note: This may be a snapshot of a story I'm planning to write.

Anxiety

Fear gripped every inch of him. It hurt to breathe. In his gloomy cell, his ribs pressed into the cold stone beneath him. Shattered, he shivered with pain, clutching a blue cap streaked in blood. The shock of Newkirk's death replayed relentlessy in his brain. His tears trickled, running in rivulets into his ears, plopping onto the floor. He tucked his legs to his belly, wrapped his arms around his knees and sank into miserable sleep. Maybe somehow his friends would find him. Maybe somehow he could explain. Maybe someday he would understand how he got into this horrible situation.