Page 107 of Babalon

Fucking lightning bolts.

Inmate Shaver— Also known as the Bone Collector. Having a house full of corpses means nothing to him when he accumulates the very pieces that hold our bodies together. Everyone from women and children to men littered his Nebraska homestead. Where he processed his kills like wild game and saved their pieces, some for trophies, others for gifts to unsuspecting persons.

He didn’t get caught until someone dropped live prey off on his property. A young woman, around twenty-three, abducted from California left in a cage on his front porch. When he let her out, she took off running and he gave chase. She was heard screaming from miles away as he ripped her in two, in a way no one deserves. I didn’t get to see the crime scene photos, but he did things to her that gave me nightmares when I first started at Darkwater. Her body mutilated so bad that she started ripping between her thighs from the brute force. Now here he is, staring at me, daring me to make this night worthwhile.

Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.

If he doesn’t chase me, I might come out of this alive.

“Grab the girl and let’s go, Nate is waiting.”

“W— what? You’re taking me to that clown?” I ask, almost disappointed that they will let someone as insignificant as Nate to take the lead.

“No, he’s transporting you. You’re going to Ulrich.”

“The hell is Ulrich?”

“You’ll see. Tonken, grab her.” O’Brien orders.

Oh, fuck no, I’m not going down without a fight.

When Tonken tries to grab my wrist, I slap his hand away and immediately retaliate. My free hand grabs a pencil sitting behind me on the desk and when he gets close, I stab him in the face. I keep doing so even as he screams and fights against me. The pencil breaks in my fist but I don’t stop. Blood coats my skin in smears and splatters when O’Brien wraps around me like a vice— trapping my arms to my sides.

I scream as loud as I can, his stronger mass leaning back and lifting me from Tonken where I thrash with all the weight I can muster. Being pinned like this, it’s hard to get out of unless you disrupt their hold and that is going to be a struggle when inmates spend their time working out and I am nothing compared to them. My legs kick every which way while he walks me backwards out of the guard shack.

Once outside, with more room to move around, I thrash harder, throwing my head back to knock him in the face if needed but he holds on strong. From the right, a fist collides with my temple and it instantly dazes me. My body falls limp, my eyes fighting to stay open, my mind struggling to remain conscious. Looking around, my head lolls to each side as I turn it, catching glimpses of bodies strewn everywhere.

My officers!

One was face down on the floor, looking my way. Big green eyes slowly darkening while he bleeds to death, if he isn’t already gone. Another in the background is cuffed to the table by his own restraints. His baton shoved violently into him and— oh God, Pyro was holding a lighter to his scrotum. His sadistic cackling drowning out the man’s screams.

There was a moment, several days ago, where I thought inmates didn’t hide who they were, that what you see is what you get, but I was vastly mistaken. I believed the men I have observed for years were not the violent creatures I am nowseeing before me; how fucking wrong I was. I don’t know how I am going to make it out of this.

I know that if this block, one of the milder ones, is in utter chaos, then the others are worse off. I just hope Matias and the kinfolk are able to get a hold on the AB because it sounds like they may be the ones who orchestrated this.

Pulled down the hallway, my head still in a mess of fog and pain, I can see the red and white strobing lights shining off the white walls each time I open my eyes. The urge to close them and take a nap, a dirt nap if I’m not careful, beyond alluring.

The walk felt like it takes forever but O’Brien keeps a good hold on me while Shaver follows up behind us. The dead look in his eyes has always been an indication that there wasn’t an ounce of humanity in that man. It’s truly heartbreaking to see what happens to people when they give up on the good things in life and start doing the shit they do.

I— I am no better; I am headed down a similar road. Distributing drugs, being abusive towards inmates, assaulting Kace the first time we did anything together, burning my dad’s house down, beating Lucien with the baton, now stabbing Tonken in the face. It doesn’t matter if you commit acts of violence out of necessity or not, that dark stain blackens your soul. My darkening may have started when I bit through my abuser's dick but it catches up to you.

You’re nothing like these animals, stop grouping yourself in with these people, Nadia!

I scream at myself internally, feeling the last remnants of my consciousness starting to fade.

Coming into a room, I am dropped onto the floor, amongst a handful of other guards— ones that work inside the prison with me, not the outside perimeter guards, they’re safe. These ones are bloodied and beaten to a degree, some much worse than others, but all still alive. For now, anyway.

As the goons stood around us, I hear the flicking of a lighter and the sharp inhale and exhale of someone smoking. When I look up, it all came into view. Instantly I feel sick and enraged all in one swoop.

Clark.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Nadia,” he snaps.

He sits up at the front of a lecture room on a desk, his legs crossed and looking at the glowing red end of his cigar, like some pompous asshole. I would say ‘I should have known’ but that would be one hell of a lie. I thought nothing of his involvement throughout the prison, but it started to make sense the longer I think about it.

Kace’s cell checks were always on the days where Clark was on shift, never the days where it was only me or Zurita. Then the pipeline disruption when I first started; eventually letting me take control of the drug needs within the population. The influx of new guards, my change in posts, overcrowding C Block, the fights across campus that he never broke up.

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