“Wake up, sleeping bitch!”

The ghastly yelling in the background woke me from my slumber. Startled out of my sleep, I shot up into a sitting position and regretted it immediately. My head banged into the upper bunk, hard. My hands shot up to clutch at my throbbing head and I moaned in pain.

Now fully awake, my eyes shot to the cell’s door. It was saw the shaggy-haired guard whose butt I whooped and got two barbs in my back to show for it. His nose was bandaged.

He slammed a thick baton onto his hand, that same infuriating smirk from before plastered across his battered face. It appeared that I hadn’t managed to wipe it off.

“It’s sleeping beauty, idiot,” I murmured and rose.

He continued to raise the baton and slam it lightly on the palm on his right hand over and over. It was meant to intimidate and threaten me. Unfortunately for him, the memory of him sobbing like a baby after I had beaten him was sufficient to ruin his tough guy act.

But I knew I had to be careful; I was the one in a cell.

Warily, I watched as he dragged the baton across the bars, creating an ear-grating noise that reverberated in my skull.

“What do you want?” I snarled when he wouldn’t say a thing, then smirked and said, “Want another beating?”

“I see you’re still alive. The king must have not returned to his cell yet,” he said more to himself. “Oh, well. He’ll return soon enough, and I’ll get to watch him strangle the life out of you through those cameras.” His smirk evolved into a full-fledged evil grin, vindictiveness glistening in his eyes.

At that, I frowned. This was the third time I heard mention of this ‘king’. I assumed it was a title and that this prison did not in fact house royalty among its inmates.

The kitchen staff had looked downright terrified when he found out that I’d eaten the tray that apparently had not been intended for me, and had rushed off to get another one like his very life depended on it. Curious, I’d opened the second tray of the two that were brought in to find exactly what I imagined prison food to look and smell like. Absolutely vile, inedible shit.

Just who was this person everyone was so terrified of? It couldn’t be my crazy cellmate… could it?

But who else could it be?

Warily, I asked, “Who’s the King?”

A hearty, mocking chuckle escaped him.

That could not be a good sign.

At my confused look, he rolled his eyes and decided to ‘grace’ me with an explanation. “We don’t tolerate pussies like you here who can’t handle a little man-on-man fun. Like I said, this is prison. The moment you got off that bus, you relinquished all your rights. For breaking my nose, I’m going to make an example out of you. I’ve tossed you in a six by four cell with one of the most infamous, savage, and not to mention extremely bad-tempered criminals in the world. The man was on the FBI’s top 10 wanted list for years before they finally got him. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him; his reputation precedes him. His name is Schneizel Cross, but in here, he’s known as King Satan and he rules this prison with an iron fist. He’s been charged with nearly every crime under the sun, and the one thing he hates above all else is someone intruding on his territory. He hates it so fucking much that he’d kill the person who dared trespass on his territory.”

I gulped down a massive lump that suddenly clogged my throat, my heart battering my ribcage so hard, I thought my ribs would crack.

What this vengeful idiot didn’t know was that I’d already met the king. And lived to tell the tale.

“But before that,” He reached into his pocket and produced a key. He pushed it into the keyhole and unlocked the door. “I can’t let anybody say that I let the King do my dirty work; I’ve got a prison rep to worry about. So, I’ll break your nose, just like you broke mine. And maybe an arm or two. Maybe I’ll shove this baton up your ass a few times and let you enjoy a good butt-raping before your miserable life is over.”

He slid the door open and stepped into the cell.

I eyed the baton in his hand with growing alarm. Clandestinely, I glanced around the cell for something that I could use as a weapon. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a camera in the corner.” I tried, hoping fear of discovery would change his mind.

“As a matter of fact, my friends are sitting on the other side eating popcorn, waiting for the fun to begin. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

A chill gripped my spine.

He advanced on me and I reflexively backed away. Once he was close enough, he swung his baton and I barely avoided it, slamming into the table in the process and knocking a few things off it.

“You’re going to die screaming,” he promised evilly. He swung again and missed. “I’m going to enjoy watching every minute of it! I’ll even record it and watch it every time I’m feeling down just to cheer me up!”

Movement behind the demented guard caught my eye.

The breath hitched in my throat.

King Satan.

It was the look in the King’s fathomless eyes that froze me in place. The once electric blue eyes were now as black as the darkest abyss, two dark pits. His eyes had changed color!

Impossible! It had to be the poor lighting. I knew for a fact that it was impossible for a human to possess black eyes, and yet the King’s were blacker than the night sky.

“You look like you’re about to piss your pants. Good! I’ll make you lick your own piss off the floor.”

My heart started pounding even harder, the deafening sound of blood rushing to my ears nearly drowning out the guard’s words.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

The guard raised the baton, ready to bring it down on my head.

The King moved as quickly and silently as a jaguar. Once he was behind the guard, his hands reached out and closed around the guard’s neck, then twisted.

Snap.

I vomited all of today’s lunch onto the cell’s floor.