PRISON ATTACK II
Chandler slowly came to. The cell was still pitch black. Remembering his terrifying ordeal, he began thrashing around, screaming at the top of his lungs. He was surprised that he wasn't being muffled or restrained anymore, and that he was lying in bed, fully dressed. Hysterically, Chandler screamed and screamed and screamed. His anguished cries pierced the air like a siren.
Neighbouring prisoners sat up abruptly, glancing around frantically, whispering nervously to each other. They were deeply disturbed by Chandler's bloodcurdling screams. The two night-duty prison guards stumbled around the facility, flashing their torchlights everywhere, trying to determine the source of the sound. Realising where the screams were coming from, they ran to Chandler's cell, and started banging on his cell bars with a truncheon.
"Quiet down, quiet down! What seems to be the matter here?" the guard demanded.
Chandler's screams were reduced to subdued sobs. He curled up into the fetal position, sobbing like a child.
"You there! What you screaming for?"
Chandler buried his face in his hands, remaining mute. He wanted so badly to blurt out the inhumanity that had just been inflicted upon him, but a little voice inside his head prevented him from doing so. That little voice was shame and humiliation. He didn't want to let anyone know that he had been violated and emasculated in the most degrading of ways. The guard shone his torch on Eric's face.
"He must've had a nightmare. Poor bastard is always getting them," Eric lied, his voice filled with insincere empathy.
"You two didn't bully him, did you?" the guard squinted at the cellmates suspiciously.
Lucas piped up defensively, "Look, we don't pick on the weak kid, that's just cheap."
"Fair enough. Chandler, you get back to sleep now. Best you see the prison psychologist tomorrow, I'll book the appointment. You hang in there, Chandler," the guard said sympathetically.
When the guard left, Chandler glanced around the room; lost and disoriented. One minute he was being viciously raped, the next, he was lying in bed screaming. He was wearing all his clothes, and so were his cellmates. Had he dreamed this? He touched his behind, and gasped as a sharp pain shot through him. No, he definitely hadn't dreamed this. He heard a shuffling of feet, and felt Eric's hot breath on his neck.
"Did you enjoy that, f-g?" he whispered cruelly, "I know I did." Chandler heard Lucas snickering in the background.
"In case you were wondering, we redressed you and tucked you into bed, when you passed out. You can't compete with us in the your-word-against-mine department."
A cascade of grief swept over Chandler. His entire body shuddered with sobs. His weeping was so heartbroken, it sounded like laughter. Chandler pulled the blanket over his head, desperately trying to shut the world out. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to imagine he was cuddled up to his wife and kids. He mouthed Monica's name over and over, silently calling out to her, trying in vain to lessen his anguish; trying in vain to imagine himself away from this terrible place.
He was trapped in a prison cell with his rapists, he missed his family terribly, and his goddaughter had falsely accused him of trying to murder her. It was little wonder that he was at the end of his rope, hurtling head first, into the deep end of a mental breakdown. His shattered, unhinged weeping carried along the corridors, making the hair on the necks of his neighbouring prisoners stand on end.