They Found You On The Bathroom Floor

There are some places in the world, where it seems all life, all hope, all merit of the society that rims it, is merely seemed to shut out. It is a distant memory to the inhabitants of said place.

Graveyards can resemble loneliness and exclusion, but they can also resemble new life, and memories.

Some places in the world simply have a cold exterior, but a warm, friendly core.

But Gerard knew, that as he walked down that desolate corridor, heard the frantic screams of prisoners as they threw themselves at the bars on their cells, saw the light flickering eerily above them, that this prison was rotten all through.

Frank walked ahead, his strides long and seemingly confident; he hadn't spoken a word upon entry and didn't seem intent on doing so throughout the visit. Gerard jumped as a droplet of numbing water fell from the dark stain in the moulding ceiling and onto his unwashed head.

As they were admitted into an even narrower corridor, the policeman guarding the door shot Gerard a suspicious look before throwing out an arm, blocking his entry.

"Sorry, authorised personnel only,"

Frank's head jerked up and he scurried back to the door, his nose twitching as his mind worked furiously,

"He's with me," He said in his terrible accent once more, and grabbed the cuff of Gerard's jacket. But the police officer was not convinced.

"Can I see your pass, sir?"

Fuck A pass! Gerard silently reprimanded himself for thinking too far ahead, for not considering this possibility. His hopeful look at Frank was shot down as Frank's face fell alongside it,

"My... My pass?"