Lunch Break

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     Steel bars rattled with bewildering ferocity, and the crazed shouts and screams of startled inmates echoed throughout the halls. Randall shuddered at the disturbing sounds surrounding him, covering his ears with his hands in a futile attempt to block it out. Even after working in the place for several weeks, he still had yet to become accustomed to the ceaseless insanity that radiated from each cell.

     He jumped nearly a foot in the air when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him a little. He craned his neck to look behind him, relieved to see a familiar veteran of the place, Joel, and not one of those psychopathic monkeys.

     “You’ll never get used to it, Doc, but you sure will get tired of it,” the old man warned him with a deep frown and a shake of his head, releasing his shoulder and walking past him to go check on the patient in cell 1A.

     Randall watched him for a brief moment then glanced to each side, seeing several arms reaching out of the cubbyholes in several cells, all struggling to grab at him. A little spooked, he quickly followed after the old man, freezing mid-step when he turned to him.

     “My knees are aching today. Can you go fetch the trays for me?” he asked, and Randall let out a long sigh.

     “Yes, sir.” He nodded and spun on his heel, walking as fast as he could in the opposite direction, trying is best to ignore the voices behind him.

     “Come back!”

     “Just one hair? It won’t kill you.”

     “Hug…?”

     “Come here!”

     “And thou shalt relinquish your soul to Sata—“

     The voices were finally gone and all was silent with the simple slam of the door. Of course, he would have to go right back after he brought the food trays from the kitchen, but even five minutes away from that chaos was a luxury. He looked around at the empty cafeteria before zoning in on the clock over the door in the distance, realizing that lunch for the semi-sane inmates had ended half an hour ago. That meant, as soon as he was done bringing the crazies their food, it was time for his lunch break.

     That thought alone was enough to put a skip in his step as he threw open the doors to the kitchen, calling out in a singsong voice, “oh, Ann!” The immediate reply he got was the sound of a tray clattering on the ground and a frightened squeak.

     “Jesus, Randall! I told you to stop doing that!” she hissed out as she bent over to clean up the mess. Randall instantly sidled over but, before he could do anything, she spoke up again, “I swear to God, if you touch me, I’ll rip off you head.”

     With a wide grin and a nervous chuckle, he slid his hands into his pockets. “It seems you’ve gotten used to the routine,” he remarked while Ann got back up to her feet and irritably blew a few loose strands of black hair out of her face. As she tossed the ruined tray into the sink, he couldn’t help but add, “…mostly.”

     “Shut up,” she snapped as she shoved the cart at him, causing him to wince when one of the wheels rolled over his foot. “Oh, look what you did! You colossal ass,” she growled out but, before Randall could even see what she was going on about, she spun around and went to go search through the cupboards. “I swear, I could sue you for this. Or better yet, I should lock you in one of the cells for a few days,” She grumbled under her breath as she wrapped a hand towel around her thumb.

     Red. He saw red seeping through the towel. He felt a cold chill run down his spine and his eyes promptly began to dart around the room, at the cart, her face… maybe her “assets” a couple times. Everywhere but the… No. He refused to even think the word.

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