(North Wing)

Farlow walked with an even and silent footfall towards the Main door. He could already hear the numerous voices permeating from the inside of the once-mighty wing of San Fernando Correctional. Demitri tapped on his shoulder as he fell to step behind him.

"Should we do this?" Demitri asked his companion.

Farlow glanced back at him and smirked to hide his unease. The fallen guard could only gather and bottle up what little confidence he had left inside of him, in order to stay aware of his companion and surroundings. The guilt that kept trotting within his head felt like a bolt of electricity that bounced from his chest to his legs, weakening them in the process.

"If he is alive, let's give it our all," Farlow murmured.

Demitri smiled at him and questioned, "What about our family?"

"Didn't that man confirm their safety?" Farlow replied.

Demitri shook his head, and with a low tone he answered, "We can't take his words as the truth."

"Being a guard has its risks, when we took an oath, something like this should have been a thing we were prepared for," came Farlow's retort.

Demitri shook his head again and amidst his chaotic mind, he managed to ask, "Yeah, it does have its risks, but isn't this second to what we're supposed to do?"

Farlow stared at him with a frown.

Demitri smiled and asked, "Is it not our priority to save the ones we brought to life?"

Farlow, unable to keep up with what his companion meant, stopped walking and stared him in the eye. "What exactly are your words aiming at?" he asked, with confusion written all over his face.

Demitri released a sigh, squinted his eyes, and answered, "Our kids Farlow, our kids."

Finally able to grasp what his friend meant; Farlow's lips quivered. A man of such stature as himself, graced with a badge and respect, earned by years of enslaving within the force had finally broken down. He let a single drop of tear fall from his eyes and answered, "We can't let these criminals out."

Demitri took a step back. "I can't do this, I'm going back to Rudolf's side," he proclaimed as he turned to his heel and walked away from Farlow.

"We have been partners for fifteen years Demitri, is this how we'll end?"

Demitri looked back at his comrade. Yes, they have been through a lot, and many life-threatening situations to count. Immense sacrifices propelled them to the top, but Demitri's priority far outweighed what Farlow and he had been through, or the importance of lives, other than his own family. If he was to make an enemy of his once brother-in-arms, then so be it, as long as it kept his family safe.

As he watched his friend walk away, Farlow yelled, "Then why, why did you fight alongside me up there, why stand beside me if this was what you wanted?"

For a brief moment, Demitri stopped, turned towards his comrade, and answered, "Reflex probably, we've been together far too long. You moved, I moved."

***

(West Wing)

Sheldon sat on a chair and tried to massage his knees, he was far older than any of the guards inside the office, but being new to San Fernando Correctional, he needed to abide by the rules of seniority. Well, he had no complaints. He would rather follow than lead them. He glanced at the dead body on the floor and then at Mark. The young guard would probably carry that death inside of him for a long time. The woman too, Sheldon felt that the secretary wouldn't make it out alive, and her death would surely be a burden on the young guard's shoulder.

Death, oh how he hated the sight of death, and yet, here he was, working inside a prison where death was as constant as the rising of the sun.

On the other corner of the room, Raffy gave up hope. He and Johnny had stopped fumbling with the radio and sat on the floor. They received a couple of bruises and minor wounds during the fight that left them in pain and exhaustion. He glanced at the prisoner in the corner of the room. The tied-up renegades had fallen asleep, maybe they too were tired, Raffy thought to himself.

Mark could almost hear his heartbeat, due to the strong thumping it kept doing inside his chest. Melinda's body had taken a colder feel. The woman was still breathing, but it was obvious that she was almost drained of blood. What could he do? What should he say? She gave up her heart to him, and now, would she be giving up her life because of him?

He should have said he loved her, even as a fake comfort to her question. He should have given her that, even if it was false words. She deserved something, anything she could take with her if she loses her life.

He glanced down at the next letter of 247, would the old man's words offer him anything this time? Could he find out an answer to his own dilemmas?

Mark chuckled. Despite the stupidity, he felt for wasting his time reading a dead man's letter, he clicked his tongue and proceeded to read.

***

Dear Maria,

How are you, my love? It has been nineteen years, hasn't it? Such a long time. I'm wondering how you are, how you're living your life, how you're raising your kids, and if you're happy. Are you happy Maria? I often dream of knowing your answers. But I guess, that's all I ever will be permitted to do, to dream.

There is nothing more for me to say about my incarceration. Nothing ever happens or maybe something does, but I'm too caught up in my world, wrapped in a cocoon of your memories and endless prayers for your happiness. I don't have the mind to notice anything else. Maybe it would have been better if I had died.

It's been so long. Am I still alive? Why am I still alive? Can the heavens take me now Maria? I wish they would. I'm tired, I'm so tired.

Love Forever

Your Silent Knight
***

Mark leaned back on the desk behind him. He inhaled and exhaled, hoping to free his guilt and regrets. A breaking point, that's the only clear message of 247's Letter. How long does it take for someone in prison to tire of life? Mark chuckled, what life could someone who had no chance of freedom possibly have?

Mark looked down at Melinda. The woman's breathing was far too slow, and it appeared like she was desperately gasping for air.

Immediately, Mark leaned over her and whispered, "I'm sorry. In another life, I permit you to break my heart."

The woman who had not moved a muscle since losing her consciousness gasped for air again. Her arm gradually wrapped around Mark's hand, which at that time was bent over to the right of her head. She slowly opened her eyes and softly answered, "I will take your word for it."

The young guard smiled at her and ran his other hand over her hair.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered to her, but instead of a reply, the woman's hand shook, her body rattled and blood came out of her mouth. Panic suddenly took over Mark, he pulled himself away from her, squatted to her side, and brought his hand toward her wrist. A tear fell from his eye when it finally dawned on him, that Melinda have passed away. How could she have used her final words as an answer to his meaningless one? Mark thought to himself.

Sheldon was standing a meter away from the two souls on the floor. He saw and heard everything. Everyone in prison was aware of Mark's little escapade with the young secretary. He shook his head and turned toward his other companions. There was no way he would walk up to the young guard and offer any form of reprieve. He deserved to feel the pain.

Becoming someone's reason for death was not something new to Sheldon. But it was something that has haunted him his entire life.

Grief, regret, and loathing are the only emotions Sheldon was truly capable of feeling. Once you become someone's reason for their demise, you must learn to live with it. People like him and the young guard on the floor, they don't deserve forgiveness. No, they must learn to accept the pain that they brought upon themselves. They're cursed, they're forbidden to be happy because they are nothing but scums.

After a brief prayer, Mark took his shirt off and laid it on top of Melinda's face. His tears fell and his heart throbbed painfully from the immeasurable guilt that took shelter inside him. He robbed everything of her. Her heart, soul, and life.

The young guard stayed beside the woman's dead body, whilst thinking of his wife and how he wished he could cling to Jasmine at that moment. His wife would know what to say, but would she give any comforting words if she found out who Melinda was?

A screeching sound disrupted the young guard's musings, he stood from the floor and saw Raffy run towards the radio.

"Hello, hello, this is San Fernando Correctional. We are under siege. We need backup. Please respond!" the guard yelled.

But the line immediately got disconnected before they heard a reply.
***

(One mile away from San Fernando Correctional)

Nathaniel stared wide-eyed at his radio. "What the hell is happening?" the marine questioned, before he steered his car back, intent on getting to the nearest police station.