Like a Bullet Through a Flock of Doves.

Chapter 1.

I sit in my cell, staring at the wall, tracing the brick work with my eyes. I sometimes expected and hoped that the walls would change, but everyday I woke up to the same white painted walls, the brickwork still visible through it all. I have been in this prison for just over three months now, after being part of a drug trafficking movement. At the time, I had not actually been caught, and I managed to move on from my past and had built up a family of my own. However it had been within the past few months that everything had finally caught up with me, and now I was here. I hated myself for ruining the life I had built up... And seriously it was hurting. I as missing out on everything that was happening at home, and everyday that passed my by, dragged so damn slowly, that it felt as if I would never be going home. I was tired of the prison walls, and I was scared of what was going on outside of them.

My cellmate got out yesterday and somehow even though he was a thief and an abuser of women, I missed him a little. I know that sounds ridiculous, as he had done things that were unforgivable, as no-one should ever raise their hand to a woman. I do not miss him, and the person that he was, more the simple feeling of having someone else in the room with me. I sigh, and lay back on my bunk, knowing that I will be the only inmate still in their cell. I should really be out doors, but what is there to do out there for me? We are welcome to take part in calming activities; such as yoga or "art." There is nothing calming about either of those activities. I used to do art when i was not in prison, and it was beautiful to me. I had loved my art work, but not here... Not anymore. There was a church within the yard, but we are all sinners here, and honestly what would church do to help us anymore? I had never been a religious man, and the thought of God "ridding me of my sins," seemed even more ridiculous now that I was being punished for my past. God could not save me from myself and I could only wait patiently until I was free.

We're allowed to use the track when it's open, and when I am at my lowest, I choose to run, as it keeps my mind from thinking. I do not truly enjoy going outside, as I am not like the other inmates. Yes, I've done something wrong, and that has caught up with me, but I'm not like the rest. I know that I have dome something that is worth regretting, whereas a lot of them scream in the night, howling that they are innocent. The innocent do not belong here, and if their screams were true, then they wouldn't be stuck here like me. They all used to be avid drug users, and many of them still are, or people who do so much worse. They're the type of men that are murderers or the type of me that start fights, just for looking at them wrong. I was tired of being here already, even after only six months and now I had another three years to go. Three years in this place seemed like hell on earth, but I knew that I could make it, I would be a free man again.

I jumped down from my bunk walking to my tiny bedside table. We were not allowed many personal items, as it would not be a punishment facility if we were allowed them. i rummaged around in the drawer, finding the one picture of my daughter that I possessed. I was only allowed one, and I smiled at it, looking at her little dimpled cheeks.

"Hey Bandit," I smiled, "Daddy misses you so much. Are you being good for Uncle Mikey? I know you will be, I love you, and I will see you soon."

My daughter was the only thing that I had outside of prison, as my previous wife had left me the moment I got arrested for being in the drug business. I sighed, setting the picture back down. I saw my daughter once a week and she seemed to be growing up so fast. She was the most beautiful thing in the world as far as I was concerned. As much as I resented Lindsey for leaving me, Bandit reminded me of her so much. Bandit as already three years old, and I was grateful that I had not fully missed out on her life. I wouldn't be out of here until she turned six, but I knew Mikey was taking great care of her. Mikey was the only family who dared to see me anymore. My mother and father had deserted me from the moment I had been arrested. I knew that they would stay away from me, but it was almost as if I was going to give them a disease. I was not sick, I had just sadly made a terrible mistake. I paused for a brief moment, as the door to my cell clunked open, and a guard appeared in the doorway.

"Way, move to the other side of the room," he demanded, and I did as I was asked, stepping out of the way, standing near my bunk. I turned myself away from the doorway, as I knew how scary it could be to be put into a room like this. Another inmate was pushed into the room, and I heard a grunt as he stumbled inside, before the guards gave him the orders the way they always did with a newbie. The door was shut again, and I watched him as he continued to look at the floor, un-moving, barely breathing.