5th PAWW’s story

I kept my promise! Also I only need to add one (sexual) scene to my book and it’ll be completed! 

“Time to get up,” someone told me, his voice rough. I threw my legs on the side of the bed, groaning because my head was pounding. What was happening?

“Where am I?” I asked the man on the other side of the bars.

“It’ll be Snow White time for you soon, but no prince will come kiss you, if you catch my drill.”

“What?” I took in my surroundings. I was in a small cell. In prison. “How did I end up here?” I looked down at my hands, noticed a scar I didn’t have before. Why was I here? I couldn’t remember anything.

The guard mumbled something under his breath. “Don’t play that game again with me, Murray. You killed your boyfriend.” He unlocked my door and stepped inside.

My boyfriend? I frowned, scrubbing my memories, but there was a hole in my head that I couldn’t fill despite my best efforts. I’d kill a boyfriend I couldn’t even remember.

“Come on now, you know what’s waiting for you.” Shackles clasped on my wrists, and the guard shoved me out. I stumbled, the light of the hallway making my eyes tear up.

“No, I don’t remember. Where are you taking me?” Panic was taking over, and I refused to move even as the guard grabbed my arm.

The shackles hurt my wrists, and the beige walls were making me sick in the stomach.

“How did I kill him?” My mouth was dry, my throat parched, and my legs were trembling.

“Seriously? You gonna play that game card again, Murray?”

“What game? I don’t understand what’s going on, I’m not playing any game. Where are you taking me?”

Keeping a hand on my shoulder, he pressed a button on the speaking device strapped on his clavicle. “Bodmer here. I need backup in Hall G to escort Murray.”

“Someone with be right there. Over.”

“Escorting me where, godamnit?” I fought against his grip on me, cheers coming from the other cells, and Bodmer had to slam me on the floor, head pressed against the cold floor.

“This could have been real easy for you, Murray, but you wouldn’t listen.” His breath was ragged against my cheek and smelled minty. “What do you think happen to first degree murderers?”

It took me a few seconds to understand I was supposed to answer the question. “They’re sentenced to prison for life.”

With a grunt, he forced me on my feet. “Not in this state.”

There were footsteps incoming from behind us, but I hardly noticed. Flashes of souvenirs appeared in my mind, slowly filling the hole. It was coming back to me now.

Echoes of a fight, shouts and angry eyes. The taste of despair and copper in my mouth. The softness of the pillow pressed against my face to muffle my sobs. Ashes on my clothes, underneath my nails, never washing completely away.

“Move on, Murray.”

Sam Murray. That was my name. I did kill my boyfriend, and I regretted nothing of it.

The PAWW Project