Cain's Darkness(2)

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Cain walked toward the communal showers, passed the cellblocks, and took in the groups of men that had segregated themselves by skin color, and told himself this would be one long ass sentence. He had only been in ADX, or the Alcatraz of the Rockies, for two weeks, proud to be put here because he had done it in the name of protecting his child and Violet. But he also regretted a part of it because he would miss out on being with his family, his brothers in the club, and it was all because of that motherfucker that had dared to lay a hand on his little girl. Cain cracked his knuckles, rolled his head around on his neck, and felt the rage move through him at the thought of all the things he would do to that sick bastard once he was out. The Brothers of Menace would watch over what was his, take care of his daughter and of Violet, and make sure they didn’t want for anything. The club was a family, a tightly knit connection of men that were closer than blood.

He pushed everything else out of his mind, and knew that once he got out of this shithole he’d go after the man that had put him in here. The club could have easily taken him out, but Cain wanted that opportunity, wanted the pleasure of squeezing the life out of him and making him suffer. And fucking hell would he make him suffer.

He moved past the group of white supremacists playing cards, and then went further still to pass the workout room where a group of African-Americans were working out. That was what this world was like on the other side of bars. It was color against color, rank against rank, and violence controlled everything. It was about who was the strongest, which group could have the most pull, and what guards were in on any kind of illegal exchange. There was corruption, and segregation ruled the cellblocks. And what wasn’t broken into colors was broken into groups: white supremacists, gangs, bikers, wise guys, and so forth. It was an eat or be eaten world. Hate wars were rampant, and Cain had to be strong in order to survive. Good thing he had a lot of hate, violence, and rage burning through him. His first night here he had been attacked while sleeping, but his bunkmate had learned fast that he wasn’t a man to be fucked with. Cain had broken his arm, leg, and put the guy in the infirmary for a week. But that incident had cost Cain seven days in solitary.

He stepped into the shower room and slung his towel over the rack. Even the showers were segregated by race, and if someone fucked up by going to the wrong one it could be an all-out war. Yeah, Cain had sure as fuck learned fast what needed to be done to survive, and he had no plans on leaving this place in a body bag. He had unfinished business to handle, and he had to finish his sentence before that could be followed through.

He started to bathe, but soon he heard the sound of the door opening and closing. He didn’t turn around, but was alert, aware of his surroundings. No fucking way he ever let his guard down in this hellhole.

“Hey man,” a newbie that had transferred from another cellblock said, as he made his way closer.

Cain nodded once, and focused on the wall before him. He finished scrubbing up, shut off the water, but then the fucker was moving closer still and not taking the fucking hints in the looks Cain gave him to stay the hell back. “What the hell are you doing?” Cain said in a deep, threatening voice. The guy was naked as hell, and looked like he was tweaking hardcore.

“Man, I need some H. I need some fucking H bad.”

“Do I look like I deal with that shit, man?” Cain said with malice in his voice. He grabbed his towel, pushing past the junkie. The tweaker grabbed for him, maybe asking for help, or trying to stop Cain from leaving. He was clearly jonesing for some drugs, but the thing was, everything in this place was a threat. The guy tried to come after him again, and Cain was beyond pissed. The bastard was grabbing at Cain’s arms like he was a lifesaver, and if he didn’t back the hell up Cain would make sure he’d be meeting the fucking tiled floor here soon.

“I just need the name of someone who has something, man. I just need a bump, one damn bump, and I’ll be good.”

“I don’t have anything for your junkie ass, and if you come after me again I’ll knock your teeth in.” But it was clear the asshole wasn’t listening. He might have been too out there to fully understand that Cain wasn’t a man to be fucked with, but in here you listened or fought. The guy wouldn’t listen, was so far out of his damn mind, that he came forward again. Instincts kicked in, and Cain reacted. He slammed his fist into the man’s face, knocked his ass back, and the guy still tried to rise and come forward. He was a crazy fucker, but finally got on his feet and moved out of the shower room, blood trailing behind him.