The young man in front of him was trembling. He was terrified. He should have been. Theodore wondered just what the Alliance had inflicted on him in his absence.
"What's your name?" Theodore asked the younger man, leaning against the wall and staring at him with playful eyes.
"Seth," his new cellmate replied, quietly, not quite able to meet his gaze.
Theodore hummed in amusement, "Are you new, Seth?"
Seth nodded, practically quaking in the chair he sat in as he did so. This was the pathetic creature that was supposed to replace Maytag? Maytag had been bold, eager for Theodore's protection right from the get-go. Seth was different. Fresh. He had probably never seen the inside of a prison cell before that week. Probably had never been to jail before whatever had gotten him arrested and tried and locked behind Fox River's gates.
He would be fun to break.
"Scared?" Theodore asked, trying his best not to spook him too much too quickly. "Look at me, boy."
Seth obeyed. His eyes were so massive, so wide, so bright. Like a frightened child. Like a rabbit, scrambling to escape the jaws of a coyote. But there would be no escaping Theodore Bagwell. Nobody ever did.
"You probably heard stories about me," Theodore grinned lecherously, all teeth. "They're not all true."
Most of them were, though.
Seth didn't reply. He just stared at Theodore with those enormous eyes, and Theodore could see the wheels turning in the boy's head.
Theodore chuckled, before pulling out the fabric of his pants pocket, showing it to Seth.
"What d' you say we go for a walk, huh?"
Theodore gestured for Seth to follow him. Seth tensed up, refusing to move from the chair.
"One of those stories that are very much true, is that I'm very good at keeping the boys who keep close and hold this here pocket safe. But I'm equally dangerous t' those who are outside that jurisdiction," Theodore said, voice low and edged with venom. "So, which one are you, Seth?"
Seth stood and took hold of the pocket.
"Smart man," Theodore nodded.
Together, they exited the cell, making their way through the cellblock and out to the yard. Theodore walked with a swagger that seemed to fill the space around them, like a predator marking his territory.
Seth was scruffy, skinny, and frail. His brunet hair stuck out at odd angles. He reminded Theodore of himself when he was significantly younger. He already hated Seth for that.
As they continued to walk, Theodore could practically feel the boy's terror, like it was a living thing. It was intoxicating. He could see the way Seth's eyes darted around, taking in every detail of their surroundings, as if he were trying to look for a way out. Theodore had been through this before, with too many other inmates to count. It was almost funny, really.
"So, Seth," Theodore drawled, "Sweet kid like you, probably never thought you'd end up on the inside of a place like this. What'd you do t' get yourself locked up?"
Seth shivered, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "I-I don't want to talk about that."
Theodore clicked his tongue in irritation, "Well, I'm certain someone's already told you my story. So it's only fair that I get t' hear yours."
Seth hesitated, then muttered, "I...did something bad to my ex-girlfriend."
Theodore chuckled darkly. "Why, Seth! I'm surprised at you. Puttin' on this innocent act, deer caught in the headlights."
"I-I didn't hurt her!" Seth insisted, voice wavering.
Theodore laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. They had reached the bleachers, and they both took a seat, side-by-side.
"Oh, Seth," Theodore chuckled, "I know better. You're not the innocent little lamb you're pretendin' t' be. You're in here for a reason, and you're gonna have to face the consequences, same as the rest of us. But don't you worry. I'll make sure you don't end up in the wrong hands. As long as you play nice and do what I say."
He leaned in closer, their shoulders touching, and Seth's entire body went rigid again. Theodore smiled, feeling the boy's fear intensify. He could practically taste it on the back of his tongue.
"Now," Theodore said, voice turning soft, "I'm gonna tell you how things are gonna be from now on. You see, Imma be your new best friend here. I'm gonna make sure you're safe, and in return, I expect you to do me a few favors."
Seth swallowed hard, eyes wide with fear and confusion. Theodore could see that he was struggling with the idea, but he also knew that he didn't have much of a choice.
"I-I don't know if I can do that," Seth stammered.
"Everyone's got dues t' pay," Theodore said, placing a hand cautiously on Seth's upper thigh. The boy flinched, but didn't pull away. He let it rest there, a silent reminder of their new understanding. "You're gonna have t' earn your keep, y'know."
Seth nodded, solemnly.
"Good boy."
Theodore broke Seth in for the first time that afternoon. He cried the entire time. Again, he reminded him of himself at a much younger age, and it only caused Theodore's hatred and rage to grow, becoming sick and molten in the pit of his stomach.
Seth had bled all over Theodore's sheets. He tagged his cellmate 'Cherry' for this transgression.
Theodore lay in his bunk, staring up at the bottom of Seth's mattress, as he listened to the boy cry himself to sleep. It was almost as if he could hear his own voice in those sobs, echoing back from a time when he too had been broken and afraid. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the memories away, but they only seemed to grow stronger, more vivid.
He looked at his hands, holding them above his face. They reminded him of his daddy's hands, but they had done at least ten times more damage by now. He had raped and killed dozens of men and half a dozen children. Every single time, he relished in the power of being the one in control, of being stronger than anyone else around him, of making sure that he would never be that scared little boy again. And then it would end. And all that would be left was blood and semen and sickness.
And then, he'd do it again. He'd find another boy, another man, another sniveling excuse for a human being, and he'd break them, just like he had been broken. And every time he did it, every time he tasted their fear and felt their bodies surrender to his will, it would be a small piece of revenge against his father, against the world that had made him into that monster.
Once, for a little while, he had tricked himself into believing that he didn't have to be that person any more. Once he had loved. He had been loved, he thought. He had been given the chance to be something else. To be better than his father. To raise two beautiful children alongside a wonderful woman and have the most normal of normal lives. He could have been average. He could have been happy.
He had been delusional, to believe that anyone could ever understand him, though. That anyone could ever see past the feral creature he had become and see the boy he had once been. Susan certainly didn't. She had thrown him away, turned him in, the moment she realized who he really was.
If she ever could have understood, would she even care? Or would she look at him, at Theodore Bagwell, and only see is a murderer, a rapist, and a child killer? Could she ever see the hurt, terrified, little boy who had cried himself to sleep every night for years, praying for someone to save him?
Prayer. Screaming and sobbing and pleading to absolutely nothing. A void he had wished to be swallowed up by. His daddy had believed in God. Theodore had stopped by the time he was nine. He wondered why his daddy held onto the farce. If the God he was raised to believe in was real, they were both destined for hellfire.
Not his mama, though. She had been a saint. She had endured so much. And what had she gotten in return for her troubles? A twisted broken child that had to be separated from her for life to keep society safe.
The only bright part of that life had been his mama. She was the only person who had ever actually loved him. But she wasn't able to save him. She faced too many challenges. And his daddy would have hurt her if she tried. He hated his daddy for putting her through that. He hated him for his own existence, in general.
Theodore was the product of incestuous rape. Everyone he ever knew growing up knew it. Everyone was repulsed by him for simply being alive. Anyone he could have ever looked up to looked down on him for the mere nature of his blood. He had been a child. He couldn't control how or why he had been born. But it never mattered. Any pain he received was considered deserved. He was a freak. He wasn't worth saving.
He didn't need anyone to save him anymore. He took care of himself these days. He was the top of the rank and file. He had taken the gang that he had been pulled into at ten years old while in juvenile hall, and turned it into a real threat.
He may have learned how to defile a man from his daddy, but the killing he had figured out all on his own. In reality, there had always been evil in him, even when he was that terrified boy. He had attempted to murder his fourth-grade teacher, burning down her home when she refused to put a stop to the bullying he endured day in and day out. He had poured as much gasoline as he could carry over the siding of her beautiful little white house and lit the sucker up. She didn't die, but to that day, he wished that she had.
His daddy couldn't touch him or beat him while he was in juvie. But plenty of other people had that covered just fine. He learned from the best, as he climbed the Alliance for Purity's ladder. He remembered his cellmate, a stocky, blond, fifteen-year-old boy named Cade, who ran the gang from inside those walls. Theodore was a quick study, and Cade had taught him so incredibly well.
When Theodore showed off what he had learned, it netted him friends. People he could rely on. People who would draw blood for him. He had never had a friend before. Now he had lots of friends. And they didn't care what his background looked like, as long as he could kill. As long as he offered protection.
Cade would have liked Seth. Theodore missed Maytag.
Maytag was the only cellmate Theodore had ever had that relished in the life he had given him. Theodore told him what to do, and Maytag did it with a smile on his face. He enjoyed being with Theodore. Always. He listened to him, offered himself to him, fought by his side during every riot. If Theodore could have loved again after Susan, he might have loved Maytag.
Scofield had taken that from him. He had murdered his closest friend in cold blood. Theodore remembered, holding Maytag in his arms, as he bled out on the concrete, teargas filling his lungs and his eyes until he almost blacked out.
Theodore had never been so angry. He wanted revenge. He wanted to rape Scofield. First with his flesh, then with a knife. He wanted to rip the life from Michael Scofield's worthless body and cause such enormous pain that he would beg for death. He wanted to tear apart every inch of flesh, every sinew and bone, until there was nothing left but a bloody, quivering mess on the floor.
He could still feel Maytag's hand, heavy and limp, slipping from his own as the life drained out of him. He could still see the look in his eyes, that last spark of life fading as he stared up at Theodore, pleading for him to do something, to save him. But Theodore had been powerless. He despised being powerless.
Theodore grit his teeth in frustration. There was more going on than Scofield had shown on the surface, he knew. He was working with the mob boss, John Abruzzi. It was the entire reason he had spent the last week in the infirmary. Abruzzi had promised him revenge, and then had backstabbed him for Scofield's favor at the last second. Theodore was determined to figure out why.
Everyone seemed to think that Scofield was special. But in reality, he was a parasite. One that Theodore planned to destroy. Being easy on the eyes and having a college degree didn't change that.
Scofield had despised him from the moment they had met. He had offered the man his pocket, and he had offered Theodore venom in return. Theodore wasn't used to the moxie. Most people knew their place when dealing with him. They were either terrified or they were loyal. There was no in-between. But Scofield seemed to think that he was better than everyone else. Like he was somehow immune to the system.
Theodore didn't understand it and it irritated him. It was one thing to be clever. It was another thing entirely to flaunt it. To wear it like a badge of honor. He should have taught the man his place when he had the chance. But he had been too soft. Too merciful.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
The last scraps of his kindness, left over from the days where he had been weak, had died with Maytag. It was time to be strong again. Time to reclaim his power. Time to make sure everyone in Fox River knew their place.
Theodore sighed, running a hand through his crop of thinning hair. He sat up. He had done enough mulling and he was getting bored. It was time to wake Seth up. He had a lot planned for his new cellmate, and he refused to feel guilty about it. His cycle had already been completed tenfold. What was one more?