This chapter is written from a completely different character's POV. I hope you think I did an okay portrayal of them.

CHAPTER 14
Mr. West's POV

The walls of my prison cell gave off an intimidating look as I stared at them from my bed. I'd been in here for one month, and it was already torture. The boring daily routines of waking up, eating breakfast, working at the gym or going outside on the basketball courts. Nothing changed. How in the fricking world was I gonna last seven whole years?

Society sucked so much. I was stuck in this rathole for something that I never did. Pathetic. What kind of world did I live in? All because of three teenagers, one being my own daughter, I was going to be spending several perfectly good, useful years in a place like this.

I had no one else in my cell with me. The guards had deemed me too 'violent' to be with another prisoner, not that I really cared. These cells were so freaking small. I ain't no cupcake—I'm a full grown man. A ten by six foot room isn't enough room to have another person, let alone even do anything productive.

I pushed the long sleeves of my orange jumpsuit up because I thought it made me look scarier, even though I didn't have any tattoos. Yet. At eating times, no one sat with me. Outside on the courts, I was by myself. I didn't care. That would give me one less person to be annoyed by.

On the day I had gotten arrested, the only thing I can remember was waking up in a hospital, surrounding by cops. I was in a really bad shape, having gotten stabbed in the side with something, and they had given me several blood transfusions. But after I got better, the police broke to me that I was convicted of child abuse and attempted murder.

At the court, I argued that I had been the one attacked, and was being accused of something I never did. But somehow, I lost, saying that the evidence was completely against my side. I guarantee you that I was set up. I have done absolutely nothing that could get me in a place like prison, but yet, here I was.

Accused of something I never did.

An hour ago, one of the guards had come over and encouraged me to go down to the weight room to get some fresh air. I called him something that was apparently 'very rude' and he said I wasn't allowed to leave my cell until dinnertime. Talk about someone who has attitude.

Not that I really cared. Like I've said before, I don't have any friends. I doubt I would be getting any visitors either, not that I wanted some.

My wife, God knows wherever she is, could be dead for all I know (and care). The only thing I can remember of her was that we had the worst child ever imaginable. Yeah, and I don't think I wanted Jade visiting me. It was her fault I was in here, and the next time I saw her I would strangle the living guts out of her.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Letter for Mr. West!" a female voice said on the other side.

"What the eff do you want now?" I hollered back, not bothering to stand up.

Every door in a prison cell had a little window near the top, so the guards could stand outside and watch you like zoo animals. There was even a little opening below the window that flapped open so you could get food or packages from people without anyone having to come into your room. Yeah, they really treat us like animals.

The opening beneath the window opened, and an envelope dropped onto the tray underneath.

What is this? Probably a letter from my tax collector. I rolled my eyes but got up anyway and shuffled over to the tray. The letter was pretty light, and I roughly ripped it open, letting the scraps of envelope float to the floor.

Hey, Dad!

Do you remember me, your daughter that you abused for twelve years? Well yeah, I'm still alive, in case you're wondering, all thanks to the boy you banished from our home. Yeah. I said it. If Beck hadn't been there for Tori and me, we would've died and you would be in an even worse situation than you are. I'd hope that you'd say thank you to him, but seeing how big of a jerk you are, I won't get my hopes up.

Oh, and because of you, Vega and I passed our project even though we had to start over from scratch because Vega's laptop broke when it was at our house. That and the fact that Sikowitz gave us extra time because we were in the hospital for a while. So yeah. You know, after this whole thing, I think we might actually become friends. Might. I just need to get over my fear of being close to people.

And that's all thanks to you.

No dad in their right mind would do what you've been doing to me. Because of you, I had to keep a secret for over a decade. Because of you, it's harder for me to trust people, knowing that in any moment they can turn on me like you did.

But I guess, because of you, I learned how to be assertive in other situations, and it is fun to boss people around, but not like you do to me. Not that far, no way.

I'm living with Beck right now, in case you're wondering, but we're still trying to figure something else out, you know, but I doubt that's necessary. It's been really great to come home everyday and see the house in great shape. Cough cough.

Don't expect me to visit you a lot. Yeah, you don't deserve to have any visitors for all the things you've done, but I'll come once in a while just so I can make fun of your sorry butt. I bet you're looking forward to that, huh?

Enjoy your seven years in prison. I think it should've been twelve, one for every year that you abused me too. I talked to Mr. Vega, the cop, and Mr. Shay, my lawyer, but the most they could get was seven. Oh well. I guarantee when you're out you'll do something else to get you in there for another seven years, or if I get lucky, even more that that.

So that's all I have for you for now. Don't expect any more letters from me. I don't want to waste any more of my life doing anything for you. Keeping secrets, being your punching bag, nothing. Nope. Never again. Everyone has a speed bump in life that they need to get over, and you were my biggest one. I doubt anything else that happens to me could compare to this experience.

I'm not going to miss you. I don't love you. I'm never going to see your face again as long as I can help it.

Cheers!

Your ex-daughter,
Jade West

What the frickin' heck did I just read? I crumpled up the letter and threw it on the floor. My messed up daughter. You'd think years of my training would have taught her a few things by now. After all, that was exactly why I did it in the first place.

I walked back over to my bed, which wasn't far away, and sat down carefully. The mattress creaked under my weight. My stomach growled loudly. I needed some alcohol.

God, I haven't had any in such a long time. Alcohol was like my entire life. And taking that away from me ruined me. Not so much physically as mentally and emotionally.

Luckily, just a week ago I had discovered that some of the other prisoners had a way of obtaining beer and wine. I threatened to snitch to the guards and beat the crap out of them if they didn't give me any, so, terrified as they were, they complied.

Of course, that still was not enough to keep up with my demands, and it was really hard drinking only a few sips everyday, because I might get too drunk if I downed the rest, and then the guards would suspect something. I was getting used to it a little more every time, but three sips would never compare to drinking a whole six-pack at once. Still, it was better than nothing.

I stood up and pounded the walls with my fist. The sound echoed dully in the cell. I was sick of this place, just sick, sick, sick of it. I was trying to do some good in the community by whipping a troublemaker into shape, and I get jailed for it.

What was wrong with this world? Really, I'm serious about that.

I kicked the side of my bed as hard as I could, probably bruising my entire foot. But I didn't care. Pain was a part of life. You had to learn to get use to it, no matter how bad. If you couldn't handle it, then you'd let in control you.

And that's how I controlled Jade.

But I didn't let it control me. The words she said, the things she did to hurt me emotionally didn't bother me at all. You let it get to you, and then you'll become a slave to it.

I reached into the garbage can next to the toilet. Yes it was disgusting, but that's the only place I could think of to hide my beer. I took out the brown bottle and took a few swigs.

I had just placed the bottle back in the trash when there was a sudden knock on the door. I looked up through the window and saw the round face of a sweaty Stevie staring back at me.

"Mr. West, go to the back wall and stand there with your hands behind your back," Stevie instructed, tapping on the window.

I'm not a fish in a tank, I thought, but begrudgingly did as he said. Unfortunately, I was limping over to the back because I guess I had hurt my foot more than I thought.

The door swung open and Stevie came in. I could tell he was nervous. He drew himself up, trying to make himself look bigger, but his hands were shaking as he spun me around and tied my hands together with a plastic tie.

"Can you come outside with me?"

Stevie turned around for a split second, and I launched myself at him, despite my bad foot. We crashed to the concrete floor loudly, and he knocked out immediately. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself up using my shoulders and forehead, as my hands were tightly tied behind me. I stood up and rushed towards the door.

WHAM!

As I had reached the doorway, something solid smashed across my chest, sending me backwards. I felt the sharp pain in my wrists when I landed on them, and I was winded immediately.

"What the heck are you doing?"

Blurrily, I looked up and saw a different guard, a plastic bat in his hand. That was probably what he hit me with. What a coward. He couldn't even use his own hands to take me down? Wimp.

I was hauled to my feet for a moment and then shoved down on my knees, my head resting against the cold metal of my bed.

"Hey, I need another guard over here," the man said into his walkie-talkie. "Yeah, convict 81205 just knocked out Stevie...again. I need some backup."

Within seconds, another guard burst into my cell. It was getting unbelievably hot in here, especially the room being so small and now there were a whopping four people stuffed in here.

The guard holding me down lifted me back up, and I faced the third guard, Johnny. Johnny looked over at my trashcan, and reached inside.

"Hold on, what are you doing?" I shouted, starting to panic.

But it was too late. Johnny pulled out the beer bottle, giving me the dirtiest look he could muster, which wasn't very dirty in my opinion.

"You know you can't have alcohol in here. I guess we'll just have to take you up to the chief's office." Johnny was trying to sound all threatening and stuff, but I didn't buy it. "You're a sick, sick man, Mr. West."

As we went out into the hall, I mumbled, "Yeah, well guess what, buddy?"

"What?"

"You don't know me."

THE END.

Mr. West is just absolutely psycho huh?

Huge THANKS once again to everyone who enjoyed this story. I really loved writing it.

If you're wondering, as of now, there will not be a sequel. I have other stories to write and I think this one ends just nicely. But you never know, the future changes all the time. And after all, you don't know me. :D

Any questions you still have on anything, review or P.M. me. :)