The Main Character

I deserved this, getting locked up, I honestly didn’t mean to kill that guy he just wouldn’t comply, “Everyone down on the ground!” The instructions were clear as day, I didn’t even give a thought to the idea that anyone would try to be a hero or try to defend the bank, I mean, we just wanted to get into the vault grab what we could and get out, it wasn’t like we were directly robbing anyone, except the bank I guess.

The guy came at me just as we were about to leave, we were done, grabbed what we could carry and up until that point no one had gotten hurt, well except for the security guard, but a busted nose was a small price for him to pay, better that then his life. But someone had to be a tough guy, try to stop us, the idiot lunged at me just as I was leaving, wrestled me for my gun, I didn’t even mean to fire, didn’t mean to kill him.

I knew they would come for me, the law, I even split my share of the take with rest of the crew, I had no chance so I guess I didn’t need it.

What is bothering me now is how long I’ve been in solitary confinement, it’s been days now. At first I was with all the other prisoners keeping to myself in the yard, trying to avoid trouble, just watching my own back and staying away from everyone. When I finally did find trouble it was a simple fight, some poser wanting to prove himself so one of the gangs would accept him, he underestimated me, all he got was a trip to the infirmary, and me? I got locked up, more so…

The first day was rough, blank concrete walls, scratches from fingernails, a light above, a single thin mattress on the floor and a filthy toilet.

The third day I found something, something that saved my sanity; a single piece of black chalk. I know, sounds weird… To be so excited by a piece of chalk, but spotting it, hidden under the toilet’s pipe, felt like Christmas had come early, especially after three days of staring at the featureless ceiling.

I was careful not waste it, but I used it until I wore it down to nothing more than a nub about the size of my pinky nail. Lines and dots forming patterns and artwork, the blank wall opposite my bed looks much better now, and the project allowed me to maintain my sanity for a few hours while I took my time creating my masterpiece, I just wish I had more chalk so I could finish it.

I sat and stared at my work for hours, almost missing the bowl of slop being slid through the panel at the bottom of my door, twice a day everyday, the same stew of rice and meat that I don’t dare to guess the origins of.

It was on the six day I stared getting a little pissed off with my artwork, I really want more chalk, the incomplete lines and patterns are getting on my nerves and every time a meal comes I shout out for the guards to please bring me more chalk, they never even answer.

I wake up to a series of loud rumbles followed by sirens, might be a riot, that would be funny. I even heard gunfire, but I’m so exhausted from my lonesome and so burnt out from my stupid incomplete creation that I go back to sleep, the world outside my room can piss off for all I care right now.