Slater

I’d been laying on the bed in my cell when I felt it, my brother’s death.

I snarled, rushing to the cell bars. “What the fuck just happened?”

I’d heard a commotion above us and the two guards who were watching me raced upstairs. Down here, we only have small windows at the ceiling to let in just enough light to make you remember how much you hate the dank, dark area of the cells. It's barely enough space to hear what's going on above you.

No one answered my question because no ...