Life
But this isn't life.
The guards are clever, he'll give them that. His cell has no bed sheets, only a mattress. A camera buzzes right outside it. They aren't letting him take the easy way out, for sure.
He actually did try to poison himself, drink his own blood to induce shock.
One week in solitary later, and he knows not to try it again.
She never gave up after seven years, and he wants to die less then a month in prison.
Every member of the jury looked at him with disgust when the judge pretended not to see it. Friends and coworkers from his job talked about how they wished they had noticed sooner.
"You stole this woman's life. It's only fair that you get the same." The Judge's gravel bangs down.
He tries to justify it to himself; She shouldn't have fallen for his sick dog plot; If she had ran away the second he asked for help, he would've never had the courage to try to kidnap anyone, he would've spent the rest of his life with no job and an empty shed; But it rings hollow to himself and others.
People are judged by what they do, not by what could have happened.
"You will stay there until you die."
Life. That was the sentence.
His father said to his face during his one and only visit to jail: "I wish I never had you."
It hurt more then he thought it would to hear that.
It's very rare for him to be let out; usually for showering, they all give him his meals in his cell.
His crime does little to bring him fame, passing inmates giggle at him or glare like he's a piece of meat.
"Tough motherfucker, you put one little bitch in a shed and you think your the fucking king of evil?" The Italian man saying this laughs, covered in tally marks as is dragged in chains near his cell.
This is Ohio's worst prison, they said on his first day. Monsters who shot dozens in gang fights and men who could order deaths around the nation live here, they said. Little man like you won't last long, they said.
They are not wrong.
At the shower, he strips and goes in, seething. This is what the rest of his life will be like. No time outside. Stuck in a small room like this one, all grey and boxy until he fucking dies.
The irony is barely lost on him.
He steps in, lucking for a shower stall.
He is not alone for once.
A figure with long hair sits down, humming softly as they draw soapy hands through thick curls.
His mind goes red, his teeth chatter, his eyes flash
Jack Joy all these words flash in his spiteful mind. He hates her. He hates him. They stole his life. Now another bitch is right here.
Without thinking, he goes up to the figure and strikes the back of their head as hard as he can.
Then he's on the ground, screaming as he clutches his bloody nose fuck fuck fuck he can't see it didn't hurt when she hit him with the fucking seat
A muscled form stands above him. Thick arms and a rock like torso glisten under the shower head. Underneath the long hair, an unamused face with a thick blonde beard glares down at him.
"Asshole." A thick, drawn out voice says. "You must be new here. When Big Jack is showering-" He moves forward and on the ground desperately scrambles to his feet-
A hard fist slams into his face, and he feels something break in his mouth as a white sharp thing flies out.
"You don't fucking interrupt him. In fact, attacking folks in the shower is rude in general."
He sends a punch forwards, blood spilling from his lips-
Big Jack catches it in a flash. He watches surprise flick across his bloody face. "Not so easy when they can actually fight back, eh?" Big Jack almost sounds jolly as he slams the man's head into the back of the stall.
Big Jack is right. Fighting someone who isn't twenty years younger then him has never been Old Nick's forte. Nor was pain; Little things like Joy's small cut on his neck or the hit to his head he could take. Not something like this-
Pain like what happens when his face is slammed into the ground. Something breaks, and he can hear someone screaming as something that isn't water flows down his face.
It hurts! It hurts!
Big Jack's arms grab onto his left one, then he begins to twist-
The snap is muffled under the water. Old Nick definitely knows the next scream is his own.
His wrist won't be working anytime soon.
As he screams and screams where are the fucking guards?! He feels a firm fist grab the back of his head.
"Old Nick, right?" He can feel the man's breath on his neck as his head is once again forced to the ground. Panic well's up in him as the man begins to position himself from behind, muscles pressing up against him.
He struggles and spasms; But Big Jack is bigger then him.
One hand forces his face into the floor. The other holds him down by his back.
He finally knows what it is like to be truly helpless; against someone who can do what they like simply because they are bigger then him.
"Welcome to the Underworld."
Then he's on fire and everything hurts again and again.
Jack had Room for five years.
Old Nick will have Underworld for the rest of his life.
-END