Ricochet

Agony

Dave still remembered the day. Even in the times when he had stopped questioning the things that surrounded him, wondering how it should've been different for him. He had seen prison cells practically all his life. He stayed out of trouble as far as he could. As far as he was allowed to, in an environment where only the strongest survived.

Though he was reminded by the visiting old men every single day that this was something he should utilize for personal growth and how when he sees the end of it, he would be somebody who would've never ended up there in the first place, he was not convinced. He was not thankful to be in the position where he had to endure these conversations. He feared that the more time he spent there, the more were the chances he would willingly hurt others.

When he peered into their eyes, he felt helpless. It was like losing himself. Though after each encounter he felt numb and neutral to everyday life, something about that calmness was not natural. The mental subjugation and indoctrination constantly pitted him against himself, planted self-doubt and guilt. In some other sane part of the world, he could've gone on like nothing happened. He would've been "flawed", but at least a bit more real.

Dave had heard the rumors himself. There was apparently a purge happening within the prison cells. This wasn't the usual fights that break out every once in a while. In fact, it had reduced after the officials were forced to put some measures in place after a public outcry. He had heard about secret burials. The prison records were burnt. It was as if they never existed.

He couldn't deny it himself. He had noticed that some of the faces familiar to him weren't around anymore. He wasn't much of a talker to begin with. But this had delighted his cell mate – if you could call him that – was convinced that they deserved it for being weak. He was told that it would be funny if he was the next one to go. He couldn't say much. At least, it was honest. Plus, it was better than getting beaten to pulp by the likes of such imbeciles.

Upon further investigation with some of the folks related to the people now mysteriously missing, he had come to know that at least a handful of them exhibited strange behavior. One person lamented that she missed her cell mate even though she had her removed from their cell. She had told him that she found herself unable to walk whenever her cell mate was around. She was convinced that she was being controlled. She was sorry that the cellmate went missing but she had to do what she had to. She told him that talking about it eased her mind and he had asked her to not think about it too much and to move on.

But this couldn't have been a coincidence. Dave believed her. In fact, he was dreading it himself. The last time when he was visited by one of those "gifted" men who wanted to save him from himself, in a moment filled with rage and agony that their words and their eyes brought him, he had wished with all his being, to bring pain and suffering upon these assholes.

He had personally seen a number of people who had tried to be feisty with them, be unconscious for days and sometimes weeks. But to his surprise and later horror when he discovered the rumors, the old man had gasped and slightly winced with pain, breaking the eye contact and freeing him from his abuse for the day. If the lady was right, his time was near. Something was happening to him. Even though this change, whatever it was, will come in handy for him at some point, he had hoped it not happen again for his sake. Though he tested it on himself whenever the cell mate was not around, he hid it well from others.

It all changed that day. The day he re-lives almost every day in his nightmares. He was visited by one of the prison guards late in the day and told him that he was to visit the prison chief's chamber. He was informed that one of the "gifted" wanted to see him. He was hoping for the worse and preparing for the worst.

He was confident in his abilities if need arises, he could subdue the prison chief if he had to, but with the psychic, if his powers were already under suspicion, he did not stand a chance. He had to weigh his options. A year-long coma at best, or a secret burial at the worst. To be honest, he had preferred the latter.