He'd need the phone but how to use it was the real question.
Brendan's head spun rapidly as the sick feeling grew and grew, this was not happening, this couldn't be happening; his Stephen, his Stephen. What was he supposed to do? Break out of prison, this wasn't the movies, he couldn't just walk out and magically find Stephen and everything would be fine. This was real life, the kind of real life which lies in the news, the kind of life that ends in murders watched from the outside on the television. Except he wouldn't see it from the outside, he'd live it and feel the pain from it for the rest of his life…..Stephen's murder.
He was going to scream, but he was afraid he may never stop if he did – everything he had ever said to Stephen swamped him, invisible calligraphy scarred his body, so many words, hurtful words, words he didn't mean FOR FUCK SAKE if he could he would take it all back, it was the words unsaid that seemed the most important now, words he would never get to say to Stephen but he hoped the lad knew. A warm sensation streaked down Brendan's and for a fleeting second the man thought it was like Stephen's touch, and he savoured that moment until he heard the tear hit the floor, a single tear that's all he could muster.
He had to find a way out, he had to find Stephen and bring down Silas, his life was dependent on it, because with out his Stephen there, he didn't think he could last….