Post by Thespian on Oct 1, 2021 22:52:11 GMT -5
Fuck you. With every fiber of my being, I say this earnestly.
Fuck.
“Wait a second… he’s got him scooped up! No, no. Not like this!”
YOU--!
. .
.
. .
“It’s just another dream…” He says to himself as he pushes himself out of bed. He looks around his room with a small smile as a hand reaches back to comb through his messy, dark mop of a head. It did not have a lot: a cot, a desk, a toilet and a barred window; a prison cell. All the same, the man smiles, for he knows that it is his last day within such a cramped room.
He starts his morning the same as he would any other morning. A couple of stretches here, and a couple warm-up exercises there to help wake himself up. As the sun continues to rise up over the prison, the man would take his leave from his cell. A couple of other inmates were already out and about, talking to one another. However, the man looks around for someone in particular… a friend of his. It takes him a couple of moments before catching a glimpse of his target.
“Oi! Hey, hold on a second!”
The man runs over to his target with a soft smile across his lips. The other man turns his head slightly before greeting the first with a matching smile, but a quiet wave. Instead of replying to the man with his voice, the quiet man would raise up his hands. His hands tremble for a moment as he struggles to think… before they begin to make gestures.
[YOU-SLEEP-O-K?]
“Yeah, I slept alright. A bit of a rude awakening, but I slept fine! I hope you did, too.”
The quiet man nods before looking around. He had a slight timidness to him. The more social of the two looks around. “Right, come on, let’s get you away from the people. It’s my last day and I feel like being nice. How about I cook breakfast for once?”
The muted man frowns a bit with a raised brow, questioning the offer.
“Look, I burned the food ONCE! I’ll be good this time. I-I’ve been practicing a little when you’re not looking!”
The mute grins and chuckles silently. After, he gives an acknowledging nod as the two begin to leave the common area. However, as the two walk the halls of the prison, the mute would grab at the man by his shoulder. The man stops in his steps for a moment before looking back.
“Is everything okay?”
The mute’s gaze drops a little to the floor. He doesn’t react initially.
“What’s wrong?”
The mute would raise up his gaze a little, and with it, his hands as well. He signs one more with more of a tremble to his signs.
[YOU-WAIT-FOR-ME? YOU-TELL-ME-YOU-WAIT-AFTER-YOU-GO]
The man looks at his nervous friend with concern. “Of course. I told you before that I’d wait for you on the outside. You’ve only got a week left in here! You’ll be out before you know it, and I’ll meet you right at the exit. We’ll have a better life on the outside again.”
The man begins to turn back around to continue his walk, but the mute would interrupt him with another light tug and sign:
[YOU-PROMISE?]
The man lets out a small huff before replying. “I promise. In fact… here.” The man raises his right-hand and begins to tug at his ring-finger. On that finger is a small golden ring with a couple of faded letters over the front of it. He pushes it into the mute’s hands. “You already know how much this ring meant to me; you helped me get it back.”
The mute looks down at the ring with astonishment, but before he could consider his next set of signs, the man would continue, “I’m going to see you again when the week is done, and you’re going to give that back to me. Okay? That’s a promise. That, or you’re going to take it and sell it and be set for a while, I don’t even know. But, I trust you.”
The man grips over the mute’s hands, wrapping it over the ring. “Promise me you’ll bring that ring back, and I promise I’ll see you again.”
With his hands being held, the mute had no choice but to nod in agreement. The man smiles once more before giving those hands a squeeze. “Now, do me a favor and put that someplace safe and I’ll get breakfast started for us!”
The mute nods once more before rushing off towards his own quarters once more. The man just gives a small chuckle to himself before making his way to the prison’s kitchen area.
The kitchen itself is devoid of people. Most inmates within the cell block were still waking themselves up. The man begins to dig through the refrigerator and cabinets for things necessary to make a simple breakfast. Eventually, he ends up with bread, bacon, eggs, and the pans to cook the latter items in. With a hum to himself, he pushes the bread into a nearby toaster and begins to cook the rest between two pans.
As he cooks, another, much larger inmate would enter the kitchen. This inmate stares the man down from behind as his breathing begins to hitch up in anger… before suddenly:
“HEY! YOU DIRTY, TWO-TIMING BITCH!”
The man cooking jumps by the stove top before twisting himself around.
Please. Please, can you not fucking pull this shit on my last day--
The man’s eyes instantly aim low and catch something in the inmate’s hands.
A make-shift shiv, sharpened from the wood of a pencil.
The man’s heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t have the time to catch it back up as the inmate begins to rush him. Not even the nearby guards could react fast enough as the inmate pins the man back-first against the counter. The man’s arms shoot upward as he catches the inmate’s arm; it takes both of his arms to barely stop one of the inmates. But, it wouldn’t take long for the inmate to apply pressure with both arms. That wooden shiv begins to lower itself towards the eye of the man as the inmate growls.
“I’ll fucking kill you. You do NOT get to leave me here!”
The man panics as the shiv lowers itself closer and closer. His spine grinds harshly back against the counter. He is outmatched in raw strength as the guards run over to get involved and help. However, the man finally gets his wits about him and hastily raises up his right leg. The knee connects firmly between the inmate’s legs as he screams out in pain…
… however, his agony simply shifts his weight and angle...
… and the shiv would instead penetrate deep into the man’s throat. Blood quickly begins to pour from the wound as both the man and the inmate fall to the floor. The inmate groans out in pain to his bruised and potentially busted breeders… while the man begins to clutch over his throat… choking on the blood as it dips down his fingers.
No… I wasn’t… supposed to die in this prison. I didn’t hurt anymore. Why…?
I… can’t breathe… can’t… think… I’m drowning… help… somebody… help…
“HELP! WE NEED HELP IN HERE, GET MEDICAL, A.S.A.P.!”
“Stay the FUCK OUT OF THIS!”
The inmate cracks the guard with a sudden punch before making his way over the body of the man with the bloodied shiv still in his clutches.
“And you. It’s about time you turned in for the day!”
The inmate gives a rough kick to the man’s stomach before reaching up one more time… and getting a rough dropkick to the back of the head.
“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM AGAIN! I’LL MURDER YOU!!”
This voice is unfamiliar. The man glances up weakly as the world around him begins to black out. He sees the guards rushing into the kitchen to help maintain order… his assailant on the floor, struggling to defend himself from another inmate who came to the man’s protection. When the man realizes who had come into the room… he gives a faint smile… realizing it to be his mute friend from before.
You… spoke...
The man collapses fully as the world around him begins to fade out . . .
. .
.
. .
“One!”
“Two!!”
“THREE!!!”
. .
.
. .
… The man wakes up in a hospital bed. The man’s body feels weak as his eyes dart around the room. His body is attached to a couple of IVs as an oxygen mask rests over his nose and mouth. He groans out a little under the mask. He slowly sits himself up, little-by-little, until he is upright in the bed. His hands fold themselves into his lap… only to end up finding something there. The man glances down, and as he does, a voice chimes in from the side.
“I… kept… my half… of… the promise. You did, too… in a way. Hehehe.”
The man looks down at his ring again before looking to his side to see his once-mute friend regarding him with slow, broken speech.
“Good… morning, friend.” The once-mute says with a relieved smile.
The man smiles back and opens his mouth… only to feel pain as he tries to create words of his own. With a pained wince, he reaches up to grip over his throat… only to feel a thick layer of bandages wrapped around.
“... the doctors… left… to check other patients. They… come back soon… to talk about… your wound… you… can’t talk for now… ironic, huh?”
The man’s expression begins to drop a little, as does his hands. A small, silent chuckle of defeat leaves his lungs painfully as he sinks back into bed. After a moment to ponder, his hands raise back up… and he begins to make his own signs now, slowly:
[Thank you, Idrissa. I hope you don’t mind being my interpreter for a little bit.]
“... never… a problem. I’ll… work on... my speech... while you recover. Only fair, right?”
. .
.
. .
Ring, ring, ring!
“This opening contest is an End of Days First Round match, scheduled for One Fall!”
The Thespian stands backstage at the CURE Insurance Arena. Nerves wrack his mind a little as he reaches up with a gloved hand to massage over his own throat for a moment. The Interpreter steps him next to him in a matching skinsuit and outfit and gives his friend a small nudge.
“You’re not allowed to be nervous, now. It’s just kicking a baby down and taking his candy. You ready to give them hell?”
The Thespian nods... before a raspy voice cracks from under the white mask.
“Let’s give them hell, Idi.”