In the vast mess hall at Pollsmoor prison, Devin lined up at the serving counter, awaiting his turn as Statun detailed the prison from behind him.
"Our favourite old man is over there. Ya see him, little monster?" He gestured at the end of the mess hall, where the Pope sat against the concrete wall. His figure reflected in Devin's crimson eyes as he conversed with his followers sitting around him.
"Don't stare too long, unless you want to start something." Statun advised, prompting Devin to look away. "He's called the Pope and runs this whole joint with the Lightseeker's. He's a sick motherfucker who beats people to death and...uh...touches younglings." Statun's ever-present smile faltered, replaced by a heavy sigh. "That means he's after you—"
Statun froze, his eyes widened in disbelief as his heart pounded in his chest. Looking at Devin's small frame, this kid half his height, he felt it—a bloodlust that sent a shiver down his spine. 'This kid's a lunatic! I gotta calm him down before he does something stupid.'
"But hey—" Statun grabbed Devin's shoulder, causing him to turn and meet his eyes. Statun was momentarily startled by Devin's crimson gaze but quickly reassured the teenager. "Me and the Order got you since you're my new celly, so don't worry."
Devin tilted his head in confusion, much to Statun's amusement as he reached the front of the line. "You didn't know? I'm in cell 44 with you, my guy, so I got you." Statun chuckled while the kitchen staff filled his tray. "Now let me tell you more about the Order." Statun wrapped his arm around Devin's shoulder, leading him to a vacant bench in the mess hall.
Through the vast mess hall, filled with long, worn-out tables and benches, and through the hum of voices, clattering of plastic trays, and occasional shouts from the guards. The Pope's eyes gleamed watching the duo make their way to the bench.
"I must have him," he said, cutting through his followers' chatter. They all went silent as the Pope continued, "First, I need to take care of the Order's brat. Killing him means dealing with the Order, so I need another way." He drummed his fingers on the table, a spark of inspiration igniting in his brown eyes. "Yes, yes, that's it!"
He turned to the follower on his right and started whispering in his ear. The follower listened attentively while nodding, before leaving the table and approaching one of the wardens nearby. They spoke briefly before the warden turned to the Pope and gave a subtle nod.
The Pope then turned to the follower on his left. "Bright, I need you to put hands on Statun. Make it messy, hit the wardens if you have to. You got it?"
"Yes, o holy!" Bright nodded fiercely and left the table to carry out the Pope's orders.
"Good." The Pope smiled, his mouth drooling as he revealed his ugly yellow teeth. "You'll be mine soon, you little demon! Those eyes, that hair—I'll make you see the light soon enough!" He cackled, and his followers joined in with grotesque laughter.
"Save some for me, Pope!"
"Yeah, I want me some of those red eyes!"
"Hahahaha…"
"So, we're not really a gang, just a bunch of guys who don't wanna get involved, you feel me."
On the bench, Devin grimaced at his tray filled with pap, watery mashed potatoes, and overcooked vegetable gravy. Ignoring the burnt smell, he dipped the pap into the gravy and forced it down his throat, each bite a bitter reminder of his new reality. 'This is my home now.'
"Ya listening, lil monster?" Statun asked. Devin turned and nodded.
"You're pretty silent," Statun realized, chuckling. "Fuck, if I didn't see that trial, I'd think you were deaf or something." Devin's face faltered at the mention of his trial. "I mean, fuck, that shit was brutal how…" Intense ringing filled Devin's ears as Statun's voice slowly faded. "Them kids at school… your pappies… even your lil sis…"
Devin's mind drifted back to his trial, the judge's gavel echoing in his memory as he stood on the stand.
"Mr. Draik, did you, in fact, commit the murders of Bale de Franco and Levi Thompson?" the prosecutor asked, his voice steady and authoritative.
"Yes," Devin answered flatly.
"And did you, in fact, kill your parents, Cole and Diane Draik?"
"Yes," Devin repeated, his eyes devoid of emotion.
"Forensics indicate that, other than Mrs. Draik being strangled and your sister, the rest of the victims were killed with a short-bladed weapon. In your testimony, you admit to using a black dagger to commit these murders. Is this true?"
"Yes, I did it," Devin admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
"Then where is the murder weapon exactly?" the prosecutor pressed, leaning forward.
"I don't know, it just disappeared," Devin answered, his detachment evident.
"There seems to be a lot of things you don't know, Mr. Draik. Like the drug used to murder your sister."
"I did not kill Darcey!" Devin's voice rose, a flicker of life in his crimson eyes.
"Yet toxicology reports an unknown drug that you admit to administering to her, leading up to her death."
"She was sick! I saw her die over and over! It was supposed to save her! The man in black said so!" Devin banged the podium, his composure unravelling.
"Please refrain from any outbursts, Mr. Draik," the judge instructed, prompting Devin to calm down. Turning to the prosecutor, the judge nodded. "You may continue."
"The man in black, the same one in your fictional story of a shady organization selling healing drugs to the rich? And what? They just gave it to you? This supposed multimillion-dollar pill, and you just get it for joining?"
"Yes… Mr. H, he was there… Evans was killed… The limo… The guy with the arm…" Devin's voice trailed off as he unraveled on the stand.
"There is no record of an Evans ever working in Dis-Care pharmacy. Mr. H? Is that the dealer you got the drug from? After murdering your parents, you couldn't live with yourself. Out of your twisted love for your sister, you decided to kill her painlessly. Is that it?"
"No… No, I would never…" Devin broke down, staring at his pale hands. "Darcey… Darcey… Darcey…"
Back in the prison, the memory faded as a shadow loomed over the two. They both looked up as Statun chuckled. "Bright, my brother, what are you doing here? Did daddy Pope let you out of your lea—"
Bright's fist crashed into Statun's face before he could finish his sentence. Statun lunged, tackling Bright to the table nearby. "The fuck you doing!" Statun roared as they exchanged fists, each blow landing with a sickening thud.
The wardens rushed in, separating the two as Bright head-butted one of them. Their collective efforts barely contained the chaos, struggling to maintain order in the mess hall. They held the two down, the clatter of trays and shouts filling the air.
"The hell are you sorry asses doing!" The warden who nodded to the Pope earlier arrived, his voice booming. "Both of you, straight to solitary!"
"What!? No, he started this shit!" Statun raged as the wardens escorted him out of the mess hall. "I can fuckin' walk!"
Now alone on the bench, Devin felt an intense gaze on him. He turned and found the Pope's gleaming brown eyes on him. Devin sighed, scratching his itchy palm. 'This is my home now…'
End of Chapter 17