holster.
Burnside heard the guard mumbling something indecipherable into the radio as he continued to stare down the lead guard. The guard met and held his stare.
“I’m glad you’re calling for backup. I felt insulted when you showed up with only three guys,” Burnside said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"We'll see how tough you are when you get to prison, asshole," the guard muttered.
Burnside laughed contemptuously at the comment, but he knew it was only a façade. Based on his recent behavior, the chances of being sent to a medium-security prison was becoming more remote. That meant maximum security.
With the hard-core psychopaths.
He wasn't sure how crazy he was going to be when compared to the real-life killers in maximum security.
Sure, I’ve beat a few people up. Big deal. The guys in the max have fucking killed people.
Burnside felt fear flutter through his mind like a black butterfly. The reality of the guard’s words sank in. The fight went out of him and he stared at the floor, contemplating his chances of survival at a maximum-security facility. He didn't notice the additional guards enter the corridor as backup. He hardly noticed as they slid the bars open, told him to turn around with his hands behind his back, and circled cold steel around his wrists. He continued to stare blankly down at the floor as they manacled his ankles.
"Let's go," the lead guard commanded as they seized Burnside's arms and pulled him toward the open cell door.
Burnside barely noticed. He felt like his head was filled with Novocain. Numbness overcame him. He became like the living dead as they led him from the cell.
This can’t be happening. It’s too nightmarish to be real.
Burnside imagined his mind had flown thousands of miles away and someone else inhabited his body now. It wasn't him. This couldn't be happening to him.
Twenty years? For doing nothing wrong? Surely, God would not allow such an injustice to be perpetrated. Am I being punished for my lack of religious faith?
During high school, Ray and his siblings had been given a choice concerning whether they wanted to continue going to church or not. They chose not to go. They figured they had paid their dues by sitting through years of Sunday School and sermons in grade school and middle school. They figured they knew everything they needed to know about religion and the rest would be repetition. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe they were wrong and he was only now finding out how wrong.
Maybe this is all a divine punishment for abandoning religion. If so, then what about my brother and sister? Why have I been singled out for torture and not them?
Burnside searched his brain for a rationale for his predicament. He remembered doing many things wrong over the years. He always rationalized that what he did was okay because he did it to get ahead. He knew many other people did the same things. He always reasoned that everyone else did them, so why not him? He always planned to make up for the things he did wrong in the distant future once he established the life he wanted for himself. His repentance never materialized in the form of doing the right thing: spending time and effort helping other people. Sure, he helped people while doing his job and often felt satisfaction from it. But he never went out of his way to help people to show his faith in a divine purpose and to make up for his sins.
Maybe this nightmare is all my fault: the result of a selfish and careless lifestyle.
The thought tormented him like an obsession. They led him through the jail and brought him to the back of a truck. They opened the doors and shoved him inside. He sat down on a bench and they fastened his handcuffs to a metal rail behind his back. Two guards sat across from him. The back doors slammed shut. The truck began moving.
Burnside closed his
Burnside heard the guard mumbling something indecipherable into the radio as he continued to stare down the lead guard. The guard met and held his stare.
“I’m glad you’re calling for backup. I felt insulted when you showed up with only three guys,” Burnside said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"We'll see how tough you are when you get to prison, asshole," the guard muttered.
Burnside laughed contemptuously at the comment, but he knew it was only a façade. Based on his recent behavior, the chances of being sent to a medium-security prison was becoming more remote. That meant maximum security.
With the hard-core psychopaths.
He wasn't sure how crazy he was going to be when compared to the real-life killers in maximum security.
Sure, I’ve beat a few people up. Big deal. The guys in the max have fucking killed people.
Burnside felt fear flutter through his mind like a black butterfly. The reality of the guard’s words sank in. The fight went out of him and he stared at the floor, contemplating his chances of survival at a maximum-security facility. He didn't notice the additional guards enter the corridor as backup. He hardly noticed as they slid the bars open, told him to turn around with his hands behind his back, and circled cold steel around his wrists. He continued to stare blankly down at the floor as they manacled his ankles.
"Let's go," the lead guard commanded as they seized Burnside's arms and pulled him toward the open cell door.
Burnside barely noticed. He felt like his head was filled with Novocain. Numbness overcame him. He became like the living dead as they led him from the cell.
This can’t be happening. It’s too nightmarish to be real.
Burnside imagined his mind had flown thousands of miles away and someone else inhabited his body now. It wasn't him. This couldn't be happening to him.
Twenty years? For doing nothing wrong? Surely, God would not allow such an injustice to be perpetrated. Am I being punished for my lack of religious faith?
During high school, Ray and his siblings had been given a choice concerning whether they wanted to continue going to church or not. They chose not to go. They figured they had paid their dues by sitting through years of Sunday School and sermons in grade school and middle school. They figured they knew everything they needed to know about religion and the rest would be repetition. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe they were wrong and he was only now finding out how wrong.
Maybe this is all a divine punishment for abandoning religion. If so, then what about my brother and sister? Why have I been singled out for torture and not them?
Burnside searched his brain for a rationale for his predicament. He remembered doing many things wrong over the years. He always rationalized that what he did was okay because he did it to get ahead. He knew many other people did the same things. He always reasoned that everyone else did them, so why not him? He always planned to make up for the things he did wrong in the distant future once he established the life he wanted for himself. His repentance never materialized in the form of doing the right thing: spending time and effort helping other people. Sure, he helped people while doing his job and often felt satisfaction from it. But he never went out of his way to help people to show his faith in a divine purpose and to make up for his sins.
Maybe this nightmare is all my fault: the result of a selfish and careless lifestyle.
The thought tormented him like an obsession. They led him through the jail and brought him to the back of a truck. They opened the doors and shoved him inside. He sat down on a bench and they fastened his handcuffs to a metal rail behind his back. Two guards sat across from him. The back doors slammed shut. The truck began moving.
Burnside closed his
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