Post by Audio Pineapple on Feb 7, 2007 22:49:20 GMT 1
Warning - Slash ahead
The word grief had been used multiple times at his trial by the various family members of his victims but it hadn’t struck a chord with him then. He had tried to play the role of the repentant sinner, said how sorry he was and how he hadn’t meant to do what he did but he couldn’t feel empathy for them. Their sons and daughters were dead now, saying how much they were missed, how much the ones left behind were grieving was pointless.
He remembered being led out of the court room, being spat upon by one of the mother’s, being told that she wished that he would feel the pain that she had to go through someday and he had just laughed. The most pain he’d been through was sitting down for dinner to suddenly be surrounded be armed police; the only person he thought he could trust having betrayed him without a second thought.
But now, sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed in his cell he began to understand what the victims had been talking about, because he was starting to understand the pain.
Lowering his head into his hands he remembered their last conversation, remembered how Maytag had laid in his arms on that very bed, body shaking with anger at the latest arrival
“He’s nothing but a whore, you deserve better than him.”
“Hmm…” he hadn’t been interested in the conversation, wrapping his arms around Maytag’s stomach, indicating that he had wanted to stop talking and find a more enticing way to alleviate the boredom.
“You do deserve better; he has no right to just turn up and take you away from me.”
He sighed, moving their bodies closer and kissing him down is neck to his collarbone, “I’m not bothered about him, you’re the one here now.”
“I’m going to kill him in the riot…”
“There’s more important things to be thinking about right now.”
“I’m going to tear his face up, rip out his heart; show him that he doesn’t have a right to be here…”
“You’re not killing anybody!” He had tried to remain calm but he was already sick of Maytag’s whining and the riot would be soon, he wanted to relax beforehand.
Maytag wriggled out of his arms, turning around to face T-Bag, the hurt evident on his face, “I could kill him.”
“You’re not talented enough to kill someone, you’re not man enough.”
“Do you want me to be man enough?”
He sighed again, it was the most annoying part of his cellmate; his body and mind were all amazing but he was too needy and he talked too much. He needed to be downtrodden, needed to be broken occasionally otherwise he was just too overbearing. “You’re fine being a woman. You couldn’t kill someone if your life depended on it.” He kissed him again, smirking when he received no more resistance.
“I’ll prove I can kill him; I’ll do it to show you how much I love you.”
He drew in a shaky breath, trying to lie down for a moment, deciding that all he needed to do was get some sleep but he bolted upright an instant later, the sheets still smelled like them together and the images smashed past his defences the moment that he closed his eyes. Seeing Maytag collapse, screw in hand, blood gently seeping out of his chest onto Michael’s shirt.
And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t tried to obtain Michael as his toy, if he hadn’t laughed at Maytag and told him that he couldn’t kill then Maytag would have done what he usually did, hide out in the cell, safe and sound until the riot was over. And he would still be there, smiling and laughing and kissing and stroking and…
He flew out of the bed, doubling over at the toilet to vomit as the pleasurable images were changed to ones of his death. The pain was becoming unbearable and he knew that he had finally felt what grief was and that he had to come up with some way to stop it hurting. He had to make sure that those who had hurt him paid.
Standing up he went over to the bars of his cell; “You in there Pretty? I know you’re there…” he paused, not hearing a reply and for a moment he could almost imagine Maytag standing next to him, telling him exactly what he wanted to happen so that he hadn’t died in vain, “just want you to know that I’m comin’ for you, you’ve got nowhere to run. You’re trapped in that little hole of yours,” he smiled as he delivered the final piece of Maytag’s wish
“Trapped like the pig that I’m gonna slaughter.”
The word grief had been used multiple times at his trial by the various family members of his victims but it hadn’t struck a chord with him then. He had tried to play the role of the repentant sinner, said how sorry he was and how he hadn’t meant to do what he did but he couldn’t feel empathy for them. Their sons and daughters were dead now, saying how much they were missed, how much the ones left behind were grieving was pointless.
He remembered being led out of the court room, being spat upon by one of the mother’s, being told that she wished that he would feel the pain that she had to go through someday and he had just laughed. The most pain he’d been through was sitting down for dinner to suddenly be surrounded be armed police; the only person he thought he could trust having betrayed him without a second thought.
But now, sitting on the bottom bunk of his bed in his cell he began to understand what the victims had been talking about, because he was starting to understand the pain.
Lowering his head into his hands he remembered their last conversation, remembered how Maytag had laid in his arms on that very bed, body shaking with anger at the latest arrival
“He’s nothing but a whore, you deserve better than him.”
“Hmm…” he hadn’t been interested in the conversation, wrapping his arms around Maytag’s stomach, indicating that he had wanted to stop talking and find a more enticing way to alleviate the boredom.
“You do deserve better; he has no right to just turn up and take you away from me.”
He sighed, moving their bodies closer and kissing him down is neck to his collarbone, “I’m not bothered about him, you’re the one here now.”
“I’m going to kill him in the riot…”
“There’s more important things to be thinking about right now.”
“I’m going to tear his face up, rip out his heart; show him that he doesn’t have a right to be here…”
“You’re not killing anybody!” He had tried to remain calm but he was already sick of Maytag’s whining and the riot would be soon, he wanted to relax beforehand.
Maytag wriggled out of his arms, turning around to face T-Bag, the hurt evident on his face, “I could kill him.”
“You’re not talented enough to kill someone, you’re not man enough.”
“Do you want me to be man enough?”
He sighed again, it was the most annoying part of his cellmate; his body and mind were all amazing but he was too needy and he talked too much. He needed to be downtrodden, needed to be broken occasionally otherwise he was just too overbearing. “You’re fine being a woman. You couldn’t kill someone if your life depended on it.” He kissed him again, smirking when he received no more resistance.
“I’ll prove I can kill him; I’ll do it to show you how much I love you.”
He drew in a shaky breath, trying to lie down for a moment, deciding that all he needed to do was get some sleep but he bolted upright an instant later, the sheets still smelled like them together and the images smashed past his defences the moment that he closed his eyes. Seeing Maytag collapse, screw in hand, blood gently seeping out of his chest onto Michael’s shirt.
And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t tried to obtain Michael as his toy, if he hadn’t laughed at Maytag and told him that he couldn’t kill then Maytag would have done what he usually did, hide out in the cell, safe and sound until the riot was over. And he would still be there, smiling and laughing and kissing and stroking and…
He flew out of the bed, doubling over at the toilet to vomit as the pleasurable images were changed to ones of his death. The pain was becoming unbearable and he knew that he had finally felt what grief was and that he had to come up with some way to stop it hurting. He had to make sure that those who had hurt him paid.
Standing up he went over to the bars of his cell; “You in there Pretty? I know you’re there…” he paused, not hearing a reply and for a moment he could almost imagine Maytag standing next to him, telling him exactly what he wanted to happen so that he hadn’t died in vain, “just want you to know that I’m comin’ for you, you’ve got nowhere to run. You’re trapped in that little hole of yours,” he smiled as he delivered the final piece of Maytag’s wish
“Trapped like the pig that I’m gonna slaughter.”
And aye - poor T-Bag