Short stories I write when I'm bored

Don't Care

I look out at nothing. Literally. There's nothing out there but a faint light, my only way out, my only escape back to life.

I'm a criminal, you know?

In for literally everything. You name it, I've probably done it. High chances I have.

Drunk driven?- Hahaha ha...ha...ha!

Stolen?- A lot actually

Taken illegal substances?- Who hasn't?

Killed somebody?- Too many to count.

Although that's not really any of your business, is it? No, it's damn not!

So anyway, I'm waiting here, in the little glass cube that is my cell, in an orange uniform so bright it could be a beacon and a cuff on my ankle so that I can be tracked wherever I go. Not that I'll have to worry about that if all goes to plan.

If you thought that I was caught and brought here, well guess again. I handed myself in, dumbasses, and for good reason too. They do a lot of things here in maximum security, just not on this floor. I need level nine access to do the shit I need to do.

Which I'll get when the assholes get here to take me to where I need to go. Which still isn't level nine but close enough. It gives me a chance to fuck about with the federation anyway.

I had to sacrifice a lot to get here and I have a thing against them anyway so why the fuck not?

My friends,

My narcissistic comments,

My... My Family...

I hope they're alright... Not that I really care that much.

I can't afford to care. Not now, not ever.

It's caring that gets people killed.  

A.N: I kinda maybe was having a down moment when I wrote this...