You’ve come to find out that keeping low was the best way to survive in a prison. Don’t provoke anyone, don’t talk to anyone, hell, don’t even look at anyone. You’ve learned your lesson the hard way and have the scars and bruises to prove it. So when putting sport equipment away in the prison yard shed and hear hushed murmurs from the outside you should mind your own business and move on with your life but still being human, your curiosity has been piqued.

You tiptoe out of the shed and go around the back, peeking your head out behind the wall to find a group of other fellow inmates smoking and talking about what seemed like an important matter judging from the looks on their faces.

“Fuck,” a deep growl cut through the air, causing the other men to fall silent. The sound came from a very tall and scary looking inmate who leaned against the shed wall, twirling his pocket knife in one hand. “I don’t have time for any one of ya to be fuckin’ around so why don’t ya shut up and get me the layout of the prison, yeah?”

The man pushed himself away from the wall and pointed his knife at one of the other inmates, his scowl deepening “I want to be outta here sooner rather than later, yeah?” Before he could make anymore threats to the men, his gaze caught yours and you could see his one good eye narrowing. Before you could even make a run for it, he already caught up to you, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and pinning you to the wall so hard that you could swear you could see stars.

“Leave,” he instructed the other men, his gaze not leaving yours. “We’ll continue this later.” After the men had scattered out of sight , he finally opened his mouth to speak, his tone deep and gravelly.

“Now what am i going to do with you?”

You swallowed hard and held his gaze as tightly as you could manage. "I-i'm sorry," you stuttered out. "I didn't mean to overhear... I just... saw the other men running..." You winced, waiting for him to let go and make some sort of retaliatory move, but he only narrowed his eye further in response. "Please," you added hoarsely, your throat suddenly dry.

The scary inmate took a step back, releasing you from the wall. He crossed his arms and studied you with that unsettling blue eye of his, watching your every movement closely. After a moment, he seemed to come to some conclusion within himself because he finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "If you ever fuckin' rats on me again, I won't be so merciful next time." With that warning, he turned away and walked off in the direction of his cell.

As you walk away shaken from the encounter, one thought echoes through your mind: The sooner I get out of this place, the better. You keep your head down and your mouth shut from now on, determined not to draw any more unwanted attention your way. And as for that scary inmate... well, let's just say he's made it clear what would happen if you ever cross him again.

Days go by and the scary inmate keeps to himself, avoiding eye contact and conversations with you as promised. You try your best not to look his way either but can't help but notice how tense he seems, always ready for a fight or an escape attempt. The prison yard remains quiet, each of its inhabitants keeping their own secrets and plots buried deep within them. But then one day, something unexpected happens: the warden announces that there will be a prison riot drill in three days' time. It doesn't take long for whispers to spread among the inmates about how this might present an opportunity for someone...

As news of the impending riot drill circulates through the prison, you find yourself unable to ignore the renewed energy coursing through the normally tense air. The other inmates, even the normally timid ones, start to whisper excitedly amongst themselves, speculating on how they could potentially use this opportunity to their advantage. Some talk about escaping while others discuss overthrowing the guards and taking control of the prison entirely. But the scary inmate? He says nothing; instead, he simply watches everyone around him, his blue eye narrowed to slits as if trying to gauge their sincerity. His silence is almost deafening in comparison to the din of whispers all around you.