Nkosikhona

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The stale scent of sweat and rusted metal filled the air as I walked through the dimly lit corridor of the prison, the rhythmic clang of my boots echoing off the concrete walls. It was another day in this hellhole, another day closer to the end of my sentence. Four years. That's all I had to keep telling myself. Four years until I could walk out of here and start making good on the promise I made to Ayanda-one way or another.

But every day here was a battle, and not just with the other inmates. The real fight was with myself. Keeping my rage in check, staying focused on the plan, not letting the anger that boiled beneath the surface spill over and ruin everything. It was like walking a tightrope, and some days, the tension was almost too much to bear.

Today was one of those days.

I kept my head down as I passed by a group of guys playing cards near the wall, my mind on Thabo and the progress he was making on the outside. We had a plan, and it was solid, but I couldn't afford to slip up-not now. The Mthembus were going to pay, but I needed to stay sharp, to keep my eyes on the prize.

"Hey, Mkhize!" A voice called out behind me, sharp and taunting. I didn't recognize it, but the tone was unmistakable-someone was looking for trouble.

I ignored it, kept walking. There was no point in engaging, not when I had more important things to focus on.

"Exe yewena, Mkhize, I'm talking to you!" The voice grew louder, more insistent. The sound of heavy footsteps followed, and before I could react, a hand gripped my shoulder, yanking me back.

I spun around, fists already clenched, ready to defend myself if I had to. The guy was big, a brute with a shaved head and scars crisscrossing his face. He sneered down at me, flanked by two other guys who looked just as mean and eager for a fight.

"What the hell do you want?" I growled, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The brute's sneer widened into an ugly grin. "Heard you've been talking shit about me, Mkhize. You think you're better than us, don't you? Just 'cause you've got some grand plan outside these walls?"

I frowned, the words catching me off guard. I hadn't said a damn thing about him-or anyone else, for that matter. I kept to myself, stayed under the radar as much as possible. This was a setup, plain and simple.

"Get out of my face," I snapped, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. "I don't have time for your bullshit."

But he didn't back down. Instead, he shoved me, hard, sending me stumbling back a few steps. I caught myself before I fell, the anger surging through me like a wildfire.

"You've got a big mouth, Mkhize," he taunted, stepping closer, his breath hot and rancid in my face. "Maybe we should shut it for you."

The other two closed in, circling me like vultures. It was clear they wanted a fight, and they weren't going to let me walk away without one.

"Let's see if you're as tough as you think you are," the brute snarled, swinging his fist towards my face.

I ducked just in time, the punch grazing the side of my head. But I didn't hesitate-this wasn't my first fight, and it sure as hell wouldn't be my last. I drove my fist into his gut, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone and muscle beneath my knuckles. He grunted, doubling over, but the other two were on me before I could land another blow.

One of them grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back, while the other threw a punch that landed squarely on my jaw. Pain exploded in my skull, but I used the momentum to twist free, slamming my elbow into the guy behind me. He let out a yelp of pain, releasing my arm, and I spun around, driving my knee into his groin. He crumpled to the ground, clutching himself and groaning.

But the brute had recovered, and he wasn't going down that easily. He charged at me, tackling me to the ground, his weight crushing me beneath him. I struggled, trying to get a grip, but he was too strong, too heavy. His fists rained down on me, each punch like a sledgehammer to my ribs, my face, my head.

Pain seared through me, but I didn't stop fighting. I couldn't afford to lose. Not here, not now. I managed to get a grip on his throat, squeezing as hard as I could. His eyes bulged, his punches growing weaker as he tried to pry my hands off. But I didn't let go, not until he slumped to the side, gasping for air.

I rolled away from him, struggling to my feet, blood dripping from my nose and mouth. My whole body ached, but the adrenaline kept me moving. The other guy was still on the ground, writhing in pain, and the brute was coughing, struggling to breathe.

"Stay the hell away from me," I spat, wiping the blood from my mouth. "You come at me again, and I'll make sure you don't get up next time."

The brute glared at me, but he didn't say anything. He knew I meant it.

I staggered back to my cell, my heart pounding, every inch of me screaming in pain. But as I collapsed onto my bunk, I couldn't help the grim satisfaction that spread through me. They thought they could break me, that they could throw me off my game. But they didn't know who they were dealing with.

I was going to survive this place. I was going to make it out. And when I did, I'd make sure the Mthembus paid for every single thing they'd done.

Four years. I could do four years. And when the time came, I'd make sure no one-no one-stood in my way.

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