Things have been getting rough. The guards have begun to attack me, harass me, one even tried to rape me. It seems that they realized who I am and what I do. Something tell me that I won't make it out of here alive. 

I was sitting in my cell, staring at the floor. There wasn't much else to do here.

"Cerulli! You got a visitor!" A guard shouted, coming up to the cell door. 

He unlocked it and I stood up. I held out my hands. He cuffed them behind my back. 

I wonder who's here. I'm hoping it's Ricky. He's the only one I want to see right now. I need to make sure he's okay. Every since I found out that he split, I've been worried. 

He brought me into a room with a table and when I saw who was sitting there, I felt sick. It was Oli. I wanted to kill him. Why the fuck is he here? How fucking dare he show up here?

I sat down in front of him and stared at him. I didn't say a word.

"How are you, Chris? Prison treating you well?"

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"Oh, you know, I just wanted to make sure you were adjusting to prison life, and whatnot."

"Fuck you."

"I heard your little street whore took off, yes? Back to the streets?"

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll kill you. I'm in here for murdering you anyway, so I may as well stay true to the crime." I growled.

He laughed. "You can't kill me. You don't have the balls."

I jumped up from my seat and grabbed his head. I slammed his face into the table and wrapped my hands around his throat. 

"I may not be able to kill you right now, but trust me, Oli, you'll get what's coming to you. It may not be by my hand, or anyone affiliated with me, but it's coming. You'll die." I hissed, pulling him off the table and slamming him down again. 

I heard the door open and I felt hands on me. The guards pulled me off of him and shoved me back against the wall. I thrashed around, trying to hit them. One of them drew his baton and struck me. The blow stunned me and I fell down. 

I saw Oli standing there, faking terror. When he saw me looking though, he smirked. 

The guard hit me again and again. I used my arms to sheild myself as best I could. 

I'm gonna fucking destroy him. 

His stupid fucking smile was the last thing I saw before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~

When I came to, I was cuffed and strapped down on a hospital bed. I looked around the room, trying to sit up. 

Someone came over to me from across the room. I think she was a doctor. 

"Mr. Cerulli, you're finally awake."

I just stared at her. 

"You took quite a beating." She said. "Thankfully, there's no permanent damage to you. Your nose is broken and your rib is cracked, but they'll both heal fine. That's it though."

She picked up a needle from a cart, walking around to the other side of me. 

"I'm going to keep you here for a few days though. The warden wants me to do a psych eval."

She grabbed my arm and began pushing the needle into my skin. I jerked my arm away. "Get away from me."

"It's okay, Mr. Cerulli. It's just going to help keep you calm."

"No!" I yelled, trying to break free.

"Guards!" She called. 

All of a sudden, three different officers rushed into the room. 

"I need you to hold him still for me so I can inject him."

"Stay the fuck away from me!" 

The guards grabbed me; one holding my head still, another putting his weight across my torso, and the third one held my arm down on the bed.

She pushed the needle into arm and injected the liquid into my vein. 

I immediately felt it. The moment she pulled the syringe from my arm, everything became foggy. My rage instantly forgotten. My head fell to the side and I just stared at the door, watching the guards leave. 

The doctor pulled a stool up next to me. "Alright, Mr. Cerulli, I'm going to ask you a few questions and you're going to answer them truthfully, understand?"

I nodded, not really realizing I was doing it right away. 

"State your name, age and date of birth for me."

I don't want to answer her, but I felt my mouth moving. I feel like I don't have control over my body right now. "Christopher Cerulli, 26, 10/17/94."

"Do you know year it is?"

"2020."

"Where were you born?" She asked. 

"Scranton."

"What words would you use to describe yourself, Mr. Cerulli?" 

"Intelligent, attractive, manipulative, brazen, jaded." I whispered.

She nodded, writing down what I said. 

"Do you have any siblings?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know?" She questioned, leaning towards me. 

"My mother died when I was little. I grew up on the streets. I don't remember if I had any siblings."

"How'd your mother die?"

"She was shot to death by someone who wanted my father. She didn't know where he was."

"Did you see her die?"

I nodded. 

She wrote down everything I was saying.

"Is your father alive?"

"I don't know."

She sighed. "From what you remember, what was your relationship like with your parents?"

"I don't remember much. I didn't know my father. My mother shot heroin. She wasn't around much."

"You said you grew up on the streets. How did you survive?"

"A homeless woman cared for me until I was about 10. She was murdered. I was on my own til I was 13. Then he came to me..."

"Who?"

"I don't know his real name. He told me that I could live under his roof as long as I agreed to fulfill his sexual needs. He told me it would be paradise and I was so desperate to get off the streets, that I agreed. It was everything but paradise. I was his prisoner and his slave. Until I was 19."

Why am I telling her all of this? I can't control myself.

"What happened when you were 19?"

"He decided to teach me his trade. He taught me how to build a criminal empire. And then when I grew more powerful than him a few years later, he tried to kill me and unravel my life." I mumbled. "Why am I telling you this?"

"The drug I gave you was soduim pentathol. It compells you to tell the truth." She spoke as she wrote things down.

Truth serum? I thought that shit was just a myth.

"It's safe to assume that you didn't go through any schooling, yes?"

I nodded. 

"Have you ever gone through therapy of any kind?" 

I shook my head.

"Do you have any history of mental disorders, suicidal thoughts, substance abuse, violence, or anger issues?"

"I tried to kill myself when I was 17. I...use cocaine."

"How and why did you try to kill yourself?"

"I didn't want to be his slave any longer. I jumped from an over pass. I broke my back but I survived and recovered fine."

"Have you ever been arrested for any of the following crimes: domestic abuse, burglary, rape, DUI, assault, or theft."

"I was arrested for assualt but never charged."

"Are you married or in a relationship?"

"I have a boyfriend."

She nodded. "How old were you when you first began using narcotics?"

"18."

"How do you think people view you?"

"People are afraid of me, but they respect me."

"How do you view yourself?"

"I'm amazing. I'm attractive. I have money. I can get whatever I want."

"When you get angry, Mr. Cerulli, are you aware of what you're doing?" She asked. "And do you think it's easy to anger you?"

"Sometimes. But I don't always think about my actions...I get angry very easily. Small things set me off."

She sighed. "That's all for now, Mr. Cerulli." She said, flipping through the pages in her notepad. "Based off of this conversation, I can tell you that you are narcissistic, and that you may suffer from bipolar disorder, brought on by the traumas of your childhood and teenage years. I won't know for sure though until I conduct a few more tests."

She stood up.

"Wait." I said.

She looked at me. 

"You gave me truth serum. So, anything I say has to be true, right?"

She nodded. "Yes..."

"In that case, I didn't kill Oliver Sykes. My boyfriend and I were being held captive by the man I spoke of earlier. He can attest to that." I spoke. I need to take advantage of this. I need to get out of here. "The man who visited me, the one I attacked, is the real Oliver Sykes. He framed me."

She seemed taken aback. "I'll, um, I'll inform the warden."

---------

Im bored and my boyfriend pisses me off yay

and yes, i changed the ages in this bc fuck it why not

~xxLux