Staring at my father, he gave me a look, the one he used to give me as a child. Like he was trying to read a complex book in an unknown language.
“She will come back,” I whispered. “Call me crazy, foolish, or just plain delusional. But I know her. Despite my better judgment, I still love her and I have to believe she’s coming back.”
Thing One and Thing Two came up beside me, and led me out to the familiar stretch of cells. I didn’t want to speak with anyone else, I didn’t want to do anything. Each time I saw my family, it felt like another chip had fallen away from my soul. Callahans weren’t meant to be locked up, bad things happened when you tried to keep a monster in a cage.
“Open cell D2344.”
My door opened, and when it did, there on the top bunk laid some no good teen, with brown skin and black eyes. He was tall and thin, no older then eighteen if that, and most of all, he was scared…I could smell it coming off him in waves.
“Meet your new cellmate, Callahan. Avery Barrow,” they snickered.
Stepping inside, the door closed. Sticking my hands through the designated hole, they took off the chains as I turned back to them.
Such idiots.
“Hey, I’m not going to get in your way. I was just—”
“Stop talking,” I said as I leaned against the bars. “Move out of that bed and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
He didn’t speak and I didn’t close my eyes. The warden had done this and she would pay.
DAY 14
Are you fucking kidding me?
Each inmate laid face down on the ground as the paramedics swarmed the dumbass who was having a seizure in the middle of the cafeteria. I hadn’t even gotten lunch yet and this motherfucker was cutting into my time.
He was most likely overdosing on the smack he’d ordered. He wasn’t going to make it, so why bother with the fucking dramatics?
“Is he dead?” Avery whispered, eyes wide. For a guy who had supposedly took a shotgun to his stepfather’s head, he was greener than all the hills in Ireland.
“Yes,” I said as they finally took the body away.
“Whatcha all looking at?” the fat guard yelled. “Sit your asses down and eat.”
None of them moved, and a few of them glanced at me.
Moving forward, my footsteps echoed throughout the hall. It was only when I took my seat that everyone reverted to normal. Again, I grinned. Matty and Avery came over as well, sitting around me. Part of me wished that I could at least sit with my people. But for now, I was stuck.
“It’s like you're a king here,” Avery leaned over as I ate my basically frozen peas.
“That’s ‘cause he is, kid,” Marty snickered. “Your cellmate is the Liam Mad Hatter Callahan.”
“The Mad Hatter?” he asked as he glanced at me. “What did you do? Are you like Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“How the fuck ain’t you know who this man is? Ain’t you got a TV boy?” Marty threw a roll at his head, but I grabbed it before it hit him and took a bite.
“Thanks,” he muttered to me then glanced at Marty. “My step father believed television was a source of sin.”
“You ain’t ever read a newspaper? Step outside? What the fuck did he do? Keep you in a cage?” Marty joked.
“Something like that, you don’t need a chain to be locked up,” he replied picking at his food. “But it doesn't matter anymore. I blew his head clean off.”
I shook my head. He was trying to hide his fear but instead he came off like a dumbass.
“If you don’t want a needle in your arm, don’t be saying shit like that,” Matty told him, picking through the mashed potatoes.
“If I eva get a trial. The guy they gave me says I could be in waiting in here for a while. You got to trial quick, who’s your lawyer?” he asked me.
I felt like he was trying to take notes or some shit. Without a word, I rose from the table and walked away.
Once I left, so did a few others. They didn’t say anything, they simply followed me up the stairs. Our cells were just over the cafeteria, it was one of the few places we could move without the cuffs.
“Stop,” Thing One snapped, as he stepped in front of me. The rest of the men lingered on the stairs a few paces behind me.
“What are you doing?” I watched as they threw everything out my cell.
“Cell search. Since you’ve been here, there’s been an influx of drugs. The warden doesn't like that.”
The warden can kiss my fucking ass.
“And you think the drugs are hidden where? In my mat?”
He didn’t answer, he kept his arms crossed as the other guard ripped through anything and everything. And with each rip and toss, the urge to bash their skulls in grew to the point that my hands twitched. Seven more days. Seven more—
“Are you pissed, Callahan? You look like you’re having a tough time,” Thing One remarked.
Fuck it all. I was a goddamn Callahan.
Turning around, I leaned on the rail, and stared down at all of the men who were just itching for an order. O’Connor glanced up at me.
“Callahan, I’m talking to you.”
“For the sake of your family, I hope you have a good life insurance policy,” I nodded, never breaking eye contact with O’Connor.
The men on the stairs rushed the guards, grabbed onto their necks, and tackled them to the ground. Below us, chaos erupted, which pulled in every guard and staff member in the area. The sirens went off like a symphony orchestra; it was music to my ears.
“It’s open season, my friends, let your inner monster out,” I stated softly.
Stepping over the fallen guard, I grabbed the sheet, and ripped part of it before I held it to my nose and mouth. I started my countdown from five, and as expected, when I got to one, gas cans exploded, spreading below like fog.
“Everyone down! Everyone down on the ground, now!”
I wonder what the warden will say now.
DAY 17
151.
152.
153.
“How are you doing it?” she screamed, as she slammed her hand against the door.
154.
Ignoring her, I did another push up.
“Callahan, I’m speaking to you!” the dear old Warden snapped.
“I’m sorry, Warden, solitary has messed with my hearing,” I said as I stood up to stretch. “How are you today?”
“You’ve been in here for three days. No visitors. No contacts. No nothing, and yet six of my men’s families have been targeted. Six. Two every day. How are you doing it? I know it’s you!” she howled, as she slammed her hand on my door once again.
“Let me get this straight.” I used my shirt to wipe my face. “When I am in jail, it’s my fault. When I’m not in jail, it’s still somehow my fault? Maybe it’s not me. Maybe it’s the Chicago Police Department. Maybe it’s you, for pissing me off. But then again, this all just hypothetical….”
She swallowed slowly. “So this is the beast you are?”
“I’m just a man in a cage.”
“And you expect me to believe that you’re an innocent man?”
I didn’t answer her, I really didn’t give a fuck whether she believed me or not.
“You’re insane.”
“Oh believe me, Dr. Alden, I haven’t even put in work yet,” I walked up to the door and almost chuckled as she took a step back. “I told you to read the file, after all, this is your facility.”
“Three more days and then you’re out of my hair.” Her nose flared.
I smirked. “So then by your hypothesis, six more families? By the time I leave here, no guard will ever want to work in this hole. If that isn’t the case now. Oh, and how did the drug search go?”
“You sick bastard, I will make you pay for this!” she hissed.
The conversation was already boring me, and by my tone of voice I was sure she could tell.
“I tremble
with fear. This cell is the worst you can do to me, even if you let me starve. Imagine what could possible happen if I put my mind to it.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
I was so close to the window, the tip of my nose touched it. “You want this to end? Accept that I’m not your prisoner. You are mine. The sooner you realize that, the fewer funerals you’ll have to attend.”
Dropping her head, she took another step back before turning away. “Take him to his brother in the visitor’s room. Take him there, then to his cell,” she said before walking away as fast as her tiny legs could take her.
“W-w-we need y-y-your h-hands Mr. C-C-Callahan,” the guard stammered. He looked as pale as a sheet and ready to piss himself.
Turning, I allowed them to cuff me.
“Is that too tight?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.”
“Cell 16012,” the guard called as the door opened.
Break a few and everyone follows.
As I walked in, no one made eye contact. They cleared a path for me as if I were Moses. After the second riot, they’d thought that all their problems would end if they threw me in a dark cell and never looked back. Sadly, I had planned for that. There was only so much damage that could be done from jail before we were all locked up. However, on the outside…on the outside anything goes. All O’Connor had to do was send out a name every few days.
Walking up to the glass, Declan just shook his head, as a smirk spread across his face.
“How’s Ethan?” It was the only thing I had been obsessing about.
“He’s fine. The infection is gone and now he’s back to leaving toxic bombs in his diaper,” he said, and I felt slightly lighter. “Oh, and by the way, I fucking hate you man.”
“Nice to see your pale face too,” I muttered into the phone.
“Only you could buff up and turn a profit while being in jail. I checked our funds, and for a second I was baffled. So again, I fucking hate you man.” He sat up on to edge of his seat grinning. His hair was a little shorter and darker but he still looked like the same old Declan.
“What else am I supposed to do with my time?”
He shrugged. “Well, I’m glad you aren’t coming home sickly and depressed. Seems like the world is going crazy without you running it.”
“How is the family business going?” With my luck, he and Neal had probably burned everything to the ground.
“Stable-ish.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we’re walking on thin ice. For now, everything is fine. We go day by day. Everyone is a ticking time bomb.”
“And you?”
“That includes me.” He frowned and I wondered if he was holding back.
“I—”
“Mr. Callahan, you have a few more minutes,” the guard behind me said.
Turning to him, I raised an eyebrow causing him to just look away while his hands shook slightly.
“Jesus Christ, it’s like high school all over again,” Declan snickered, as he stared at the guard wide-eyed before returning his attention to me.
He was right though. “It’s exactly like high school. Take out the weak links, break the leader, and the next thing you know, your table is the popular one.”
“I’ll never forget that slide show you played during class that exposed everyone’s dirty little secrets.”
“I’m surprised you could see it through your emo hair,” I laughed at both him and at my twelve-year-old self. I thought I was so badass, but it was the best revenge I could think of short of actually hurting anyone.
“Ahh, God.” His hands went to his face. “I’d forgotten about my two years as a Cyclops. Dark times.”
“Mom hated your hair so much, she’d always try to brush it out of your face.”
“Yeah, I was half expecting her to sneak into my room and give me a haircut.”
I was sure the thought had crossed her mind.
“How’s the public reacting to this, or better yet, to me?” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, I needed some real sleep and I needed it soon.
“CNN poll says seventy-three percent of the public think you're guilty. On the other hand, Nancy Grace has you at eighty-eight percent and is calling all your past girls to testify on just how much of a controlling asshole you are. I say fuck them all. No fucking respect. I swear. After all we’ve done for this goddamn city.”
Or at least all the good things we’d done.
“What did you expect? This is Chicago. You can’t trust anyone with anything at anytime. This city and its people will eat you alive. If they didn’t, it wouldn’t really be the same.” Even with all the fuckery, it was still my home.
“There is also something going on, Liam. Evidence. Evidence that shouldn’t exist keeps finding its way into the police’s eager little hands. At first, without a body, I would say that this was a sad attempt, but someone is helping them out.”
He looked frustrated but I couldn’t tell him. Not yet, I had to be out and off government phones before I pointed a finger at the director of the FBI.
“The case is still weak,” was all I could say.
“Yeah, well it doesn't help that Natasha was found dead in a ditch.” The smile on his face made me want to punch through the glass and into his nose.
“Even from beyond the grave, she’s still pissing me off. She’s like a neverending nightmare. Coraline always told me to stay away from her.”
Something flashed in his eyes with just mention of her name.
“How is Coraline?” I asked slowly.
He smiled. “She’s good. She went through this phase of horrible wigs for a while. But the cancer is gone. She’s now the head of the Free Liam Campaign.”
“The Free Liam Campaign?” I was almost afraid of what that meant.
“Yes, it comes with cute baby pictures of Liam, along with pictures of you and Mel, all over Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. With stories of how great a person you are. Eighty-eight percent isn’t everyone. My wife is an organizer, what can I say?”
For the love of fuck.
“Tell her I said thanks, I guess.”
“Liam, about Mel.”
“Declan, don’t. She will be there.” I couldn’t have him doubting as well.
“It’s been five months. No other calls, no check-ins.”
“Declan—”
“Maybe she wants to come home but can’t. Or was taken again. You need to prepare yourself for all the possibilities. Your trial is in three days. You cannot count on her being there, especially when I know that there’s something you aren’t telling me. Give me something, Liam, anything. What are we fighting?”
He searched my eyes, however I hung up the phone, stood, and walked back to guards.
What were we fighting? What did Ivan DeRosa truly want? And how the hell was I going to kill him?
They were all questions I needed answered before I could answer him.
DAY 20
I couldn’t sleep. I wouldn't. Not on day like this. I sat up, my shoes loosely tied, hair just as messy as it always was, and waited. Three minutes until two a.m.
“Mr. Callahan.”
“Go to sleep, Avery,” I said, staring at the wall.
“Can I say something?”
“You already have.” In fact, the kid never shut the fuck up. I should have told the Warden to get his ass out of my cell. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t.
He was silent and I just rolled my eyes before pinching the bridge of my nose.
“What is it?” I asked.
I heard him swallow as he licked his lips.
“You have five seconds, Avery.”
“I just…I don’t think you killed your wife. You don’t seem like a killer to me or a bad man. I know what a bad man looks like. You aren’t nice, but you aren’t a bad man. So good luck I guess.”
I laughed. I just laughed. It actually felt good. I hadn’t heard somethi
ng so bloody ridiculous in my whole life.
Pausing for a moment I knew what I could do.
“My people will look after you in here until I get you out. The moment I leave, the race lines will be brought up and you will feel the need to join the other blacks. Don’t. This is your one get out of hell card. Once you’re out, you’re going to work until you become somebody great...”
He laughed. “I can’t play basketball or football—”
“Is the only way you can become successful through sports? Stop talking before you piss me off and I change my mind. We. Will. Get. You. Out. You will work your ass off to become someone worth a damn because that is the only way you are going to pay me back for this. Ten or twenty years from now you will pay off your dues. Because believe me, I will come to collect. Do we have a deal, Avery Barrow?” I asked him seriously.
I heard him sit up. “You serious? How the hell are you gonna help me if you got your own shit to fix?”
“Do we have a deal?” I rolled my eyes not quite sure why I was helping this brat.
“Yea. Yes. Imma try my best.”
He was going to need to do better than his best.
“Callahan.” The officer knocked on the door.
Finally.
Turning my back to him, he placed the cuffs on through the door.
“Open Cell D2344,” the guard called.
“Wait, what about your books?” Avery asked.
My mother had brought them for me to stay sane. Sadly, I had finished them all in the first week.
“Take them. Start fixing yourself,” I told him as I stepped out into the hall.
All around me people began to pound on their doors, yelling my name with pride. With each step I took, it became louder and louder.
They knew I wasn’t coming back…not ever. All I had to do was make it through this trial.
THREE
“Our trials, our sorrows, and our grieves develop us.”
—Orison Swett Marden
LIAM
“Do you understand, Mr. Callahan?” my lawyer, Dillon DiMarco, asked me.
I pulled my gaze from my son for a moment. He was chewing on his own fist with not a care in the world as he sat in Coraline’s lap. However, Olivia held onto one his hands. I tried not to make my blatant disapproval of that known. The family knew how I felt about her, but now was not the time to harp on my preferences. I had him in my sights and that was all that mattered. He was like a magnet to my eyes, I couldn’t keep them from him for more than a few seconds. He looked like a mini Mr. Clean in a suit; his bald head even had a glint.