“Yeah, that’s it. There’s a box of balls inside.”

Rory pulled the string dangling from the ceiling, but the light didn’t come on. He stepped further in, and something crunched under his feet. He realized it was glass from the broken bulb. The door closed behind him, and the latch clicked.

“Wait … hold on…”

Rory backed up a step, knocking into something firm. An arm wrapped around him, a hand pressed over his mouth, muffling his shout. He tried to pry it free, but they were swaying in the dark, and Rory lost his footing.

A sharp pain erupted in his side, and a burning took over. An intense burning that stole his breath and made it impossible to scream. The arm released him, and he fell to his knees clutching his side. His hand registered wetness, his nostrils pulsed at the ironlike scent in the air.

The door opened, Rory saw a glimpse of light as a shadow passed out, and then the door shut again, leaving him in the dark. He heard footsteps, more like a marching band of racket passing by the door, but he couldn’t call out. He tilted his body forward, and felt the trickle leave him.

He reached, managed to find the handle, but didn’t have the strength to open it. He panted shallowly and attempted to bang on the door. He couldn’t be heard above the laughter in the corridor, or the stamping feet.

“Hey, newbie, you get lost in there?”

The door opened and slammed into Rory, but he didn’t feel it. He landed on the broken glass, but pain only came from one place, and that was his side.

“Shit!

The pain escaped his mouth in a groan, an unhuman groan he hadn’t thought himself capable of. His vision spun, his hearing warped, and the smell of blood no longer registered. All senses were softened, apart from the pain, which only got worse, more specific, more agonizing. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted a sense to numb, it was his sense of touch, of feeling, not everything else.

“Rory!”

Captain’s panicked voice for once was welcomed by Rory. It broke through the rushing sound in his head. He jolted, and his head flopped unsteadily as Captain picked him up.

Captain was calling for help, rushing him down the corridor towards the wing. Rory heard feet running, lots of them, and heard muffled shouts from the guards. The inmates were being told to get back inside, back on the wing.

“I’ve got you, Rory.”

He saw Ollie’s frightened eyes, saw Sebastian’s lined with amusement, and Pauly’s that said, ‘I warned you’, but the last eyes he saw before all went dark, were Captain’s. Tired, strained, and with the shadow of death lurking in their depths. He’d seen men die, Rory could tell, and his eyes said he was desperate not to see another person leave him.