Song of the chapter Bruno Mars Grenade:
What you don't understand is I'd catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah)
I'd jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah)
Oh oh, I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for ya baby
Ezra stepped off the prison bus along with the other men that had been convicted. They walked single-file through two sets of fences. Prisoners were out in the yard, and when upon noticing the new arrivals, they made their way over to observe them.
He got several cat-calls and whistles. A big man declaring he was going to make Ezra his bitch. Instead of letting everything get to him, Ezra looked at the man who had spoken to him and winked, "You wish you were man enough to tap this ass."
There were a few laughs from the other prisoners while the one who had been speaking leveled Standish with a glare.
Once inside, Ezra and the rest of the new prisoners were forced to do a full body check before they were told to change and then handed their bedding, a toilet roll and another pair of clothes with a jacket.
The noise grew louder as he got closer to where the other prisoners were kept. Taking a deep breath, Ezra steeled himself as an alarmed door was opened and they were marched in.
Cells were assigned, and Ezra found himself in a shared room with an arsonist who killed three people on his last stunt.
Lucky for Ezra, it seemed that whoever his contact was, had pulled some strings to keep him away from any of the criminals that he and his team caught. He would still have to wait for his contact to approach him to figure out where Chris was hopefully being held up. For now, he could only learn his new surroundings and not get claimed as someone's bitch until then.
Sighing, Ezra laid down on his newly made bed and stared up at the ceiling.
His head rolled along the wall as he stared up at the ceiling of the padded room. Eyes unfocused and mouth slightly parted, he repeated the song in his head.
'Red, red, they're all dead'
'Death comes swift and upon you'
'Dead, dead, we're all dead'
'We're all gonna die and I'll be seeing you on the other side soon'
A buzzing noise had him sit up straight, his uniform hanging loosely on his thin body. The bones in his arms were nearly visible from malnourishment and his eyes held bags under them. Searching for the buzzing noise, he crawled on all fours, his head jerking in the direction he felt he heard the buzzing. Long strands of hair blocked his vision, but he didn't push it out of his way. Breathing heavily, he clawed at his hair and at his ears, smacking them to get rid of the buzzing. Curling up into a ball and drawing his legs to his chest, he tried to make himself as small as possible. Shaking, he began hitting his head on his knee, pleading for the noise to go away.
Guards entered the solitary confinement room and moved towards him. He didn't even struggle against them as they pinned him down why another man came into check up on him.
"It seems that our prisoner is behaving better today," smiled the man in the business suit.
"It won't be long before he will be too afraid to even leave his bed. With the dosages I've been given him, any small fears he would've had before will be sending him over the edge, along with new fears," laughed his associate who was in a doctor's uniform.
"Very good. Let's keep our Mr. Westman on the treatment for now."
They left the room after the prisoner received another shot.
After he was alone again, the man crawled back into his corner and curled up in a ball. His shoes and socks had been taken off for fear of anything that might be inside them. The unnerving sensation of something crawling on him, had him clawing at his arms and then back. Whimpering in fear, he tore off his clothes and cast them across the room. His mind created false images of insects crawling over his skin and digging into him.
He gave a terrified scream and he began scratching himself till he started bleeding. Guards returned, and he was soon restrained by a straightjacket.
Food that had been delivered a few hours ago was taken away, untouched.
It only looked like fly maggots to him and he lost his appetite.
His only comfort could be his corner, and he pressed himself into it.
'Red, red, they're all dead'
'Death comes swift and upon you'
'Dead, dead, we're all dead'
'We're all gonna die and I'll be seeing you on the other side soon'
'We're all gonna die, We're all gonna be seeing red real soon'
Ezra hadn't learned much from any of the other prisoners, other than the multiple ways they would like to take him. He had gotten into a couple of fights, but for the most part, he stayed away while he did his investigating. A man named Robbie the ripper was one of the people he found interesting to talk to. Not because he was rumored to have killed over fifty men and women, by cutting their throats and taking their hearts, but because his dark and twisted sense of humor seemed to repel everyone else. Ezra was told the story of how Robbie's first cellmate was found dead in his bed. After that, no one was forced to share a cell with him. He was about sixty years old and since he was ironically dying of heart disease, they hadn't put him on death row.
Ezra heard of Robbie the Ripper when he was still at the FBI. He hadn't been one of the agents working the case but was undercover doing another assignment. He had been caught five years ago, a fingerprint left at one of the crime scenes.
"I don't understand," Ezra began. He was sitting across from Robbie in the cafeteria, "You were rumored to have killed over fifty people. How is it that you were caught finally on a fingerprint?" It didn't make sense.
Robbie smiled and leaned back a little, a twinkle in his eye, "There's a rush that comes with the kills, but after a while, even that goes away and you grow bored. I'm old and dying. Figured this was as good as any retirement facility for someone in my line of work," he chuckled, showing slightly yellowed teeth.
Again, there was his dark humor, and Ezra forced himself to laugh and play the part of a criminal.
"So, how was it, killing your boss?"
"A long time coming."
Robbie shook his head, "I mean, what did it feel like?"
"Freeing."
"Did you hate him?"
Ezra swallowed a growing lump in his throat, "Yeah."
"Bullshit. I can see it in your eyes, Fed. I know a killer when I see one, and you ain't it. What was it? A crime of passion?"
Ezra knew he couldn't look away from the man, though he doubted it would do any good if he continued. This man was reading him like a magazine cover with big font and all. One of the things he knew would be unavoidable when entering the prison. People who read other people was something quickly picked up here.
"You cared about him, didn't you? Still do. Your eyes don't look like a man who just killed someone you cared about, so why are you in here?"
"Don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Ripper."
Robbie stabbed the space between Ezra's fingers with the end of his spoon. The noise drew some looks their way, but other than that, they were left alone.
Ezra kept his eyes on the older man, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes wanted to look down at the hand still clutching the spoon, but he wouldn't.
"You must be some kind of fool, being in here then, Fed. Your little lies might work out there with the rest of the world, but in here, no one likes to be lied to. That can cost you a rib."
Looking around to make sure they were still not to be overheard, Ezra finally turned back to Robbie. If anything, he could widen his search with this man's help. That, or lead Robbie to Chris and the old man could kill his boss.
"I'm actually in here to look for my boss," he finally shared.
"Look for him... in here? How did he get himself locked up? In Centinnal no less."
"I'm not sure. We don't have that much information, but we believe he is in here somewhere."
Robbie withdrew his spoon and resumed eating, "Finding your friend in here will be a bitch of a time. That's not even including the maximum security area and death row."
"But did you hear about anyone coming in here within the past couple of months who was a fed?" Ezra pressed.
"Nope. He would've stood out like a teenage boy's morning erection," Robbie snorted.
"What about a blond, six foot two with green eyes. Kind of always mad looking."
Robbie made the appearance of one thinking before he shook his head, "Not really one to look at the newcomers, rather would wish to be left alone until my time comes."
Ezra sighed, feeling like he wasted his time.
"This man you're looking for, your boss. You really care about him."
"He saved my life," Ezra looked down at his food, finding interesting shapes in the brown stuff they called gravy, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."
"In more ways than one," Robbie snorted but gave a smirk. "If I hear anything about your man, I'll give you word."
Ezra nodded his thanks, and the older man picked up his tray and made his way to the trash cans.
Hopefully, the others were having more success than he was. Though, he really doubted it.