Page 156 of Chemistry: The Chemist

One hundred eight.

I continued my set. One hundred and fifty in the morning. One hundred and fifty at sunset. One hundred and fifty before bed. Pushing my body to its limits kept my thoughts in my head and the urge to act on them much more tolerable.

“Childers.”

One hundred nine.

One hundred ten.

One hundred eleven.

One hundred twelve.

With my eyes trained on the wall of the small cell, I locked in to complete the last leg of this morning’s set. The sound of cuffs caused my nostrils to flare. There were only one of three things that could be happening.

I was being transported.

I had a visitor.

A pig was here to talk to me.

I wasn’t interested in either scenario. In my cell was where I wanted to remain until the sunset so I could hit the floor and get another set in.

“Time to cuff up.”

One hundred twenty-five.

One hundred twenty-six.

One hundred twenty-seven.

One hundred twenty-eight.

“Childers.”

Sever the spine.

“I’m easily provoked,” I admitted.

I smiled, contemplating the acts I’d played out countless times in my head.

“I don’t give a fuck. This is nothing like out there. Get your ass beat in here.”

By you? I was closed to asking but understood it would be a waste of words.

“You’re a sick fucker. Always laughing and talking to the fucking wall.”

Punish him.

Lowly, I sniggered, listening to him go on and on about my unusual behavior. Truthfully, I minded my business and wished they’d all do the same because it could save their lives. Not this one though.

“Cuffs, man!”

One hundred forty-eight.

One hundred forty-nine.

One fifty.

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