Sergio

'Your lawyer is here', said the prison guard.

'Wait... I don't have a lawyer'.

'You do now'.

Moments before Sniper would visit to get a plea deal from me, Priscilla showed up. She had a concerned expression on her face. Poshly suited up and holding a briefcase, she entered the room and took a seat beside me.

'Tell me the truth...'

'I am telling you the truth', I persisted.

'Listen mister', Priscilla sighed, 'I can tell when you're lying'.

'Honestly, I wasn't expecting you', I replied, frustrated, 'I don't want to go to trial'.

'Have you seen what people are saying about you outside?'

'I've heard some stuff –'

'They're calling you a Nazi, a white supremacist, pig, a fascist...' she listed, adding up the slurs on her fingers, 'and other very bad things'.

'Oh, I never heard that', I shrugged it off, 'but you know it's not true'.

'But they don't know that. You've got to be a bit more diplomatic about this', she snapped, 'I've seen people's lives hang in the balance of dirty politics –'

'Priscilla', I interrupted her rant.

'No – I know you didn't murder your stepsister, who you were excited to tell me about, so who did this?!' she banged her fist to the table, demanding the facts, 'who?'

'I... am going to plead guilty', I finalised, calming my tone. After the intense gaze, she shook her head at me.

'You're covering for one of your detectives. That's it, isn't it?' the closer Priscilla came to the facts, the less I gave her the privilege of reacting. 'Is that it? I think that's it, or is it... a new close friend of yours? Girlfriend?'

'No. That's not it'.

'So are you seriously telling me you shot her?' she snapped. Bowing my head, I said nothing, 'because it's yes or no! Look at me'. I looked up. 'It's twenty to life, the offer they're giving you'.

'What?' I scoffed. The twenty to life sunk in considerably.

'So whoever you're covering for, that better be worth it...' she prompted me. Briefly I shook my head, then braced.

'I understand', I replied. Priscilla stood and paced around in circles, hands on hips. Then threw her hands in the air, finally giving up. I stood. 'Priscilla, I appreciate your help. Thank you'.

'Sergio...' her tone was sombre. Slowly, she approached, and pressed her head on my chest, 'I love you...' then she stared at me with her helpless eyes, 'that's why it hurts to watch you make a mistake like this'.

Day One. Escorted into max security felt like I was being served like fresh meat into the lion's den.

'You know your lawyer friend Michael', said the guard I was briefed by, 'he's an old friend of mine. He's told me a lot about you', he chuckled, patting me on the back.

'Really? Like what?' I requested to know.

'You're a scandalous man, chief', he muttered in my ear, then chuckled it off as he placed me in a cell with a Latino man.

'Damn', he sat up from his bunk bed with excitement, 'you're that bent cop they speak of...' when he said that, I frowned, 'it's an honour to meet you. I'm Rico'. Then he shook my hand.

Day Two. The very morning I stepped out of my cell, I met with unwelcoming company. A large group of loud, black prisoners huddled around me. It was as if people in the prison were paid to advertise and make my name famous before I stepped into the vicinity.

'Whoa-whoa, slow down mister police cop', the leader stepped up, 'remember me? It's funny how we ended up in the same place'. Immediately I recognised this man.

'Trepp', the man that beat up Michael behind his middle school, the same man that came back when Michael and I were in college.

Trepp didn't like me because I'd found a way to get from Michael what he couldn't get anymore of. Money. When I became Michael's streetwise friend, I shooed off Trepp and his friends like flies.

'We should take some time to catch up, detective', aggressively, he threw is arm around me, and squeezed me in. Straight after, I threw his arm off my shoulders, shoving him aside. Then Trepp grabbed my shirt and pushed me against a pillar in the hall, his whole team ready to devour.

A few prison guards ran over to calm the commotion but did nothing about Trepp's gang tailing me everywhere. At the canteen queue, they pushed in, or made sure I was surrounded by them.

Day Three. More than often, I had porridge thrown at the back of my neck, or had my food scavenged my Trepp's gang. Even worse, the prison guards watched, and did nothing about it.

Day Four. Room search in the middle of the night. More energetic than me, Rico hopped down from his bunk to stand outside. With a pounding migraine, I stood beside him, slouching over the balcony.

Cell by cell, every room was emptied out, personal items scattered across the ground. Beds were flipped, shelves cleared, boxes of stuff flipped upside down. Finally, they came to our room.

The guard that briefed me, Michael's old friend, grinned at us then stepped in to search the cell. Tall, black, and chubby, with a Motown accent and moustache, he was the most distinctive guard.

From underneath my pillow, he pulled out a sample of white powder. My eyes almost popped out of my sockets.

'Hang on!' I protested, 'that isn't mine!' seeking for a witness, I turned to my cell partner, 'Rico!'

'Sorry man', he whispered, 'they told me to do it'.

'What?!' I shrieked. Unbelievable, 'who told you?' In that moment, I was dragged away by two prison guards, 'who told you?!' I finally shouted before being completely removed.

Day Five. Hours after being singled out, I awoke on the ground, blindfolded. My hands and feet were tied.

'Water', I choked from thirst, 'I need... water'. Hands touched me, grabbing, and forcing me upright. Then, my hands were tied hanging above my head. A bucket of freezing cold water was thrown over my body. 'Agggrhhh!' I growled, gasping and in shock from the pronging chills. 'What is this?!'

'This is payback, my man', I heard Trepp's voice.

'Payback? For what?!' like a parrot, my head nodded around trying to detect where the next attack would be from.

'You know what you've done...'

'What – what have I done? Is this about Michael?' I tremored, remembering our contentious history.

'You're a corrupt cop', he scoffed, just before punching me in the face, 'corrupt cops deserve to pay...'

Day Six. For the whole day, I was battered like a punching bag, mocked, and tortured with freezing water for a shower. Finally taken down from my hanging position, I was laid flat on my stomach onto a rock bed.

Still blindfolded, I thought the torture was over until I heard a razor-like noise.

'Wait – no!' I begged, but I was already pierced with it. In the most painful way possible, my back was being tattooed by them. At some point, I felt stove objects being burned into my back.

When did it end? I lost count of the days I was allowed to be tortured by the alliance of Trepp and the prison guards. Then, I remembered Priscilla's wise rhetoric...

Was it worth it?