CHAPTER 5

Dimitri

Wentworth Maximum Security Prison,

Ten-year sentence. That's my judgement. Guilty of car theft. That's my verdict. My crime is being the fuck me.

The memory of the Judge's cold, merciless eyes drilling through me as he said it. Sending me here all the way to Texas, Wentworth Maximum Security Prison. His words echoing in my head till this day.

It's been seven hard long years in this shit hole. I was only 28 years old, but I felt I carried the baggage of ten men on my shoulders. Since that car chase, my entire world turned to ash.

I wake up with agonizing screams in my head. The accident. The limp body of my baby brother discarded from the stolen BMW. Shattered glass surrounding him, causing harsh cuts around his face. Blood stained his dark brown hair and clothes from his bullet wound. And his eyes, his dark blue eyes, were cold and empty... completely blank.

I woke up in a cold sweat. Most nights were like this. These re-occurring dreams will haunt me forever. But it was more than dreams. I fought a large lump in my throat. It's memories that's chained to me for life. I shut my eyes hard, trying to shake off the bad flashbacks.

The sun cut through the darkness from the tiny window above my bed. Bringing a dim dusty illumination to the cold puny cell, which only contained a single bed bunk, a small desk, a basin, and a toilet commode. It was always dark in here. The little window doesn't bring much light.

I got up from my bed and sat up. I massaged my stiff neck, compliments of the hard mattress. It's like sleeping on metal planks each night. Damn, I would give anything for a soft bed. I missed my life outside these bars. But I sure didn't miss the underground fights, the jobs, and the cash Big Ben provided.

Hell, if I just stopped this from the start, none of this shit would've happened. And especially to the people I cared about. My brother would've still been here with me. My chest hardened at the thought.

To be honest, there weren't many people I genuinely cared about. My girl was one. Some nights weren't easy, and I have to admit, I preferred being alone, but nights like these I wanted her, I wanted Roxanne, the feel of her warm curvaceous body next to mine. My fingers tangling in her long sleek black hair and my hands groping her sexy rounded ass. She always knew how to make me feel good.

I gave a deep, long-suffering sigh.

FUCK I miss the SEX! Getting yourself off can only last you that long.

My thoughts crossed over to my best friend. I knew Kyle since we were teenagers, getting into trouble together. I should've seen that as a red flag already. Who would've thought we would have progressed from petty theft to fighting in the underground rings to stealing fast cars. I gave my head a hard shake.

That son of a bitch, he's one of the reasons I'm in this mess, the bastard. I knew Kyle got the same sentence, too. But he had a good lawyer, so I wasn't sure what happened to him after they sentenced me. The Judge shipped us off to different prisons. I blew a heavy breath. Who was I kidding? I only have myself to blame.

I was dumb and naïve, chasing money and kicking ass. And my brother, Gabriel. I blinked my eyes, deliberate and slow. We went to countless foster homes together, never wanting to leave each other's side. If I got kicked out of a home, he came with me and I did the same for him. We only had each other. I was his protector, his big brother that he looked up to, taking beatings for him, fighting for him. I wanted a better life for us. But I couldn't protect him. Not this time.

The pain was still unbearable to really think about. But I held it in, I always held it in. It made me hard. My emotions became an impenetrable armor. I don't remember if I fully grieved my brother's death. If I even cried. I blamed myself for all of it. The guilt can eat and gnaw at you. Until you feel completely numb.

I got up and walked to my small basin. I turned on the single tap that only ran cold water. I splashed my face. The cool water felt good and refreshing on my sweaty skin. I felt revitalized, even for just a moment.

My hands were clutching on the basin as I looked in the mirror hanging above it. I changed since then. My black hair was shaved in a buzz cut and I got more tattoos on my upper body. The fights made my body lean. But being in prison made my body more muscled than before. Prison will do that to you. You had to learn to be tough in a place like this. At least the yard's gym was doing its damn work.

Staring at the mirror, I saw a reflection I came to resent.

Breakfast was given in my cell, as lunch and supper were, too. But this morning I had no appetite. Having a slop of oats didn't inspire me much, anyway.

The bars slid open, starting the new day's wake up call. I stood outside my cell, all the other inmates stood on the top floor in the west wing of the prison.

"29851?... 29862?... 29873?..." The prison guard called out our numbers for the morning roll call.

"...29901?" The prison guard shouted my number.

"Here." I called out.

Every damn day was the same mundane routine. The same shit, just on a different day.

Once the roll call was done, we were allowed to step out. Fellow inmates grew louder as they passed my cell, somewhat excited to get out of their cages for some time.

Consequences be damned. That seemed to be my life's existence. I balled both my hands into fists till my knuckles turned white. All the years of grimy underground world of bare-knuckle fighting made my hands rough and calloused.

The past few years, I became bitter, resentful, and enraged. I've been through so much shit in my life that very few things scared me anymore. I walked out of my cell fearlessly as I made my way to the prisons yard.

Here I was not Dimitri Hawke.

Here I was, nothing but a number.

Inmate 29901.