Protecting Methaf Parish Two

The cell was dark, cold and lonely. Boring too. In jail there is no clocks to watch the time pass. Only concrete floors and walls with a metal bar door. A straw pallet and a ‘toilet’. That’s it.

To make the time pass, he would try to make up stories. “I escaped the prison… in any way…” He drifted in and out of consciousness.

He asked himself, What’s it like to be Methaf Parish’s most wanted criminal? Pretty bleak. Then he heard foot prints.

The guards, he thought as he looked up. They came by once or twice a day. Usually to feed him crusty, stale bread and water, although usually they forget. It’s not like it matters- He can’t starve to death anyway. Other times were for taking him to The Chamber, or what he calls, The Arena. The place he battles the grip of death, never fully submerged in the place that comes after, but instead in constant pain.

Yet, he has a secret. More than one, actually. It was his job; keep the secrets of the city and not let others know.  

So when the guards arrived, he was more annoyed than surprised. After all, it was just yesterday he battled the genetically engineered, super beasts. He felt the searing pain in his shoulder every time he shifted. He flinched as he moved to face the guards.

Confused, he watched as two guards opened the cell door to a boy, not over the age of 15, shuffled in. His face was red from crying and tears streaked his face like grit covered his.  He was tossed in a corner and began to sob.

“What’s wrong?” He looked over, curiously. No one ever came to his cell.

The boy lifted his head. “I’m going to... die! Miss Jackson’s going to kill me. And it’s not my fault.” He whimpered. Then he paused. “I’m Sedrick. And you are?”

He shook his head. “Miss Jackson, she doesn’t know who I am. The less she knows, the better.”

Sedrick gaped at him, open mouthed. “You’re the boy who won’t die.” Hesitating, he added, “You can trust me enough to tell me. What’s you’re name?”

Sedrick, in his copper hair, creamy skin and mess of sprinkles, softened his heart. Sedrick was too young to be in this mess. And it was all his fault. He owed him. “I am… Finch. Finch Harrington.” Finch whispered. Louder, he asked, “How old are you?”

Sedrick wiped the tears off his face and responded, “I’m 14. Why?”

Finch smiled a sad, small smile. “My sister… she’s 14. I-I was supposed to look after her… I promised my mom. My dad left when I was 4 or 5… you know what? Never mind. It’s a long… and sad… story.”

Sedrick glanced around his cell. “We have plenty of time. Tell me.”

Finch ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “When I was born, my mom knew I was going to be different.” 

☼

Protecting Methaf Parish One

Peace