He has to leave. Leave before he turns on everyone and slaughters those few who hover in the shadows of C-Wing’s almost completely empty cells.
One foot in front of the other, he drives his thighs into the steps and takes himself out of the Wing, not once looking back at Izz.
It’s ironic and laughable that his strides take him to the far side of H-Wing, the corridors where Sandstone Correctional’s church is stored. He saysstoredbecause no one comes here, not since Alexiel took over H-Wing and you have to pass the Wing to get to this corridor. And not since the gym was shutdown, if it had ever been open. Half the population probably doesn’t know the gym exists. Sinn'ous knows because he’s been here before. On other occasions where he’s needed isolation to regulate himself. When Rogers had dragged him down here to do just that.
And now his subconscious mind has led him straight back here.
Sinn'ous bellows and lashes out, punching his fist into the solid wall. And when the flare of pain ignites a burn through his arm and scrubs back more of the red haze, he does it again.
And again.
And again.
He stopped. Why did he stop? Why did Izz’s presence there stop him?
What happened to him? How has he become this? When did it turn from the drive to kill his boy into this demanding drive to only hurt him. Fromkilltohurt.
Where did it go wrong?
Hisboy.
Sinn'ous screams again and hits the wall, driving his fists into it.
When didhis preyturn intohis boy?
Was it the guard? Was it CO Leo Anderson’s murder? Is that when all the lines became blurred?
Is he still going to kill Jasper Marcelo?
49
ROGERS
When approaching an unstable animal who is punching the shit out of a solid wall and not flinching, it’s best to use small words and not tell them to stop or no.
In the presence of mind that this could be a huge mistake, he opens his mouth anyway. “The gyms open for you.”
He’d located Sinn'ous down this corridor trying to rearrange the brick wall and made the decision to pre open the closed off gym. Shut down for‘repairs’the gym has been shut for what has to be close to five years. If not longer. Or maybe it’s been two years and it just feels like five. Either way, it’s not going to be opened anytime soon. Not with the way the prison board doesn’t give a shit about any of them, inmates and guards alike.
Sinn'ous thankfully strides down the corridor to the gym, shouldering the doors open and disappearing inside. Rogers takes a deep breath, and follows behind. His approach being more tentative.
Gym equipment scatters the room, abandoned and left to rot. If mushrooms were growing out of the machines he would not be surprised. The hanging punching bag is where Sinn'ous has gravitated towards. Each swing of his fist sending the bag swinging, and leaving a smear of blood from no doubt cracked knuckles.
Rogers is here because a collection of‘no-fucking-way-am-I-dealing-with-this-on-my-crap-pay-check’guards had all but begged him to go see why Sinn'ous is trying to become a one man building demolisher.
A standing chair calls to him, and he grabs it by the back, pulling it over to sit close to Sinn'ous. Out of range, but close to talk while not needing to yell.
“I’ve not seen you this worked up. And no alarms. So you didn’t kill anyone? What set you off this bad?”
He dreads to think Sinn'ous killed Jasper then realised after the fact that he didn’t actually want Jasper dead. Because he has seen the way Sinn'ous has changed since Jasper’s arrival to SSC.
Sinn'ous collapses to the floor, all jelly-legs giving out, lying flat on his back, arms out, chest heaving, eyes sharp and glaring up at the paint flaking ceiling.
“Ave Satan, give me strength.”
“Guards’ informed me you were looking like you were on the verge of self-combusting and taking everything out within a five-mile radius. I must say, I can agree with them.”
It has no desired effect of opening the Satanic worshiper up. It’s just them, alone in this room of dead machinery, listening to each other breathe.
