AVA'S HYPOTHESIS (HYPOTHESIS 1)

Ava made it out of Block C and to the infirmary alive but the guards and the other inmates, not so lucky as they perished or fell to their deaths when the bullets struck them. Where the bullets came from was the suspense itself as whichever direction anyone made it to, it hit them dead. How Ava on the other hand was able to make it through without getting hit was another mystery or perhaps a miracle to her as she stood glaring around for would be answers. All she found in return was dead silence.                                                                                                                     

She had found herself mysteriously rising from bed not knowing when she slept off to the sight of inmates and guards alike running and noise increase a thousand fold as shots sailed the air. Soon, it transcended the sounds of gunshots and screams to the scent of blood flying in the air and a swarm of dead bodies covering the sight of the prison block.                                                          

At first, Ava had counted herself amongst the dead as she ran with them. But a sight at Esteban weirdly amongst the female inmates trying to find his way through, gave her some renewed hope. Hope that died almost immediately when Esteban shut the only exit door right in her face condemning her to a perishing fate with the others. How she was able to make it out still remained a mystery that haunted her.                                                                                                  

Why did he shut the door right in her face? She wondered, asking herself in Spanish as she looked around. “Why?” who was responsible for the gunshots that condemned inmates and guards to a death sentence? And why?                                                                                                

“Why?” the question came back like an echo, only this time it wasn’t in her voice. It was in the voice of a child, more specifically a girl’s three times below her age.                                      

Ava swung around to catch sight of a girl in an all too familiar appearance staring at her. In her hand was a gun; revealing her to be the source of the death and chaos in the prison court. She held the pistol and came covered in blood. She was no more than 8. Ava hated them as they come. What could she be doing in prison let alone with a gun and covered in blood?              

“Why?” the girl asked again, her voice echoing in the infirmary.                                                       

“Am sorry” Ava begged, having no other choice as the girl pointed the weapon right in her face.                 

She was raging within and debating whether to pull the trigger into her skull or her throat. Ava maintained close eye contact, fear gripping her yet careful not to blink her eyes from it.                                                 

The girl eventually took a stance. In five seconds, she pulled the trigger.                                             

“On your feet, Inmate 542…!” Ava woke up to a commanding voice standing watch in front of her prison cell.                                                                                                                              

“What time is it?” she rolled to ask catching sight of the bald female prison guard in front of her.                 

“For you…? Visitation” the woman snarled opening the prison bars immediately.                              

Finding it funny anyone would consider visiting her, Ava stood up immediately. Was it Esteban? Did he in some way get himself out of prison? She wondered before following the guard to the visitation hall in her Orange prison uniform.                                                                          

It took her time to get used to the Orange uniform considering orange was her most hated colour. It wasn’t the shame of being an inmate that so much as made her hate the colour; she had been in 3 different prisons and 3 different uniforms, so she was used to being a convict, but the memories it awakened.                                                                                                         

“There…” the bald guard pointed, raising her fingers at a woman seated at the opposite end of the hall, shielded by glass barriers.                                                                                                         

“Who-who is she?” Ava asked immediately, failing to recognize not the woman but why she would visit.                                                                                                                                    

“That’s for you to find out 542…” the guard replied with a stern face before pushing her forward to meet the visitor.                                                                                                              

“You can atleast call my name instead of a digit” Ava protested before making her way to the visitor.                                                                                                                                                      

She reluctantly pulled herself to a seat before her then picked the phone to speak to the woman while watching the woman with frightened eyes. “What?” she managed to ask.                                

“Why did you do it?” the woman returned over the speaker. “Why did you kill my baby?” she asked again, her eyes reddening and tears flowing from her eyelids.

It’s another day being fed horse shit in Straightface Penitentiary, Darragh thought as he stared at the meal on his plate. As annoying and tasteless as they were, he found no other use for them but to stare and wonder if it was cooked by an animal for animals. The answers didn’t come for him in time though before he got called away.                                                                                               

“Schols!” a guard yelled, approaching Darragh’s position. Saved by the bell, he quipped smiling to himself as he looked at the guard. “You got visitor…” the fat man informed. Why do prison guards always have to be fat and ugly?                                                                                        

Who was it? He wondered glaring around. Uncle Caine? He thought before standing up. Was he there to ask him the password to the safe? Well he wouldn’t know now until he followed the guard to the visitation hall.                                                                                                

Amongst all sections of Straightface prison, the one section he despised was the visitation hall. Not for any other reason but the fact that it gave one hope for freedom when in reality there were none. Atleast not until in 50 years.                                                                        

The eyes he got from the visitors didn’t help matters. So judgmental they came, blaming her for the wrong man ever did. He needed no one to tell him, inside they were happy he was there and deserved to be caged like an animal.                                                                                               

“Hey…” he said at once, coming upon his visitor. As always, she was a lovely sight to behold. A grey-blonde beauty she was.                                                                                                   

“Hi” the visitor smiled back holding on to his arms. The sight of the handcuffs chained to his hands forced a frown on her face.                                                                                                    

“What happened?” Darragh asked immediately, seeing her change of mood. Whatever could cause her to do that? Wasn’t she used to him being in prison already?                                     

“They…they took her” she stuttered; inciting rage into Darragh immediately. “Your mother…they took her” she revealed.                                                                                                 

Forced into being still and chill for seconds, Darragh stared at her then the guards surrounding the hall. “Shit!” he sparked immediately, striking the table. “How?”                                               

“They have no idea you are in prison…they thought the only way to get you out in the open was to take her” the visitor informed, fueling Darragh with more rage than he could handle. “Darragh…” the woman held on to his hands firmly once more, scared she would lose grip. “You’ve got to do something or they’ll kill her” she begged; tears almost rolling out before she held them. “You have to give them what they want. It’s no longer a game. All is at stake…”                  

“Don’t you get it, Niamh…” Darragh barked. “I can’t give them what they want”                         

“Why?” the visitor waited for his mood to settle before asking; touching and caressing Darragh’s arm as she stared at him with her green eyes. “Darragh…listen…why?” she asked again.                                                   

Darragh seeing no better way to answer the question looked at Niamh’s melancholic eyes. “I don’t have it” he revealed, sitting back and moping. “It’s a set up. Someone’s keeping the plutonium and making it look like am with it”                                                                                         

“But…but you said you had it” Niamh cut short. Didn’t he? She wondered as both eyes met once more.                                                                                                                                         

“I did” Darragh mumbled. He was risking her life telling her this. “But I made a deal…the thing went down badly, they…they needed a fall guy” he confessed, going through a lot of agony with every passing word he uttered.                                                                                               

“Why-why didn’t you tell me this?” his visitor demanded. She got that a lot of things he did needed to be secretive but this?                                                                                                                  

“Cause I wanted to keep you out of it” Darragh blurted out without a second thought, holding grip her palms immediately while his handcuffs restricted any further touch.                        

“Now they have her” Niamh chided, mocking Darragh’s sense of decision. She had always admired him but not for his sense of judgment and decision. Sighing, she looked down for minutes before returning to him. “Perhaps you should involve the Gardia or the J2, maybe they could help…” she suggested.                                                                                                                  

Shaking his head, Darragh’s eyes swell. “They won’t” he said.                                                           

Seeing the reason in his eyes, Niamh didn’t bother to ask why. “What are you gonna do?” she asked instead.                                                                                                                                  

It took moments before Darragh could come with a response, and when he did, it wasn’t so much of a response. “I-I don’t know” he stuttered. “Am gonna find a way out of here” he babbled.                                                                                                                                                

Skeptic of the very fact, Niamh gave Darragh that stern look to tell him she knew whatever went through his mind, was nothing good.                                                                                  

“Darragh…” she whispered. She couldn’t control her fears any further. “Whatever you do…be careful” she said holding his hands before kissing them. “Just-just stay safe” she said afterwards.                                     

But like a broken down vehicle, it took her a great deal of effort to stand up and leave Darragh all to himself. He couldn’t say it but deep inside he was terrified and panicky. And whenever he was panicky, he made bad decisions.                                                                                             

As the guard let him out of the visitation hall, he felt the full rage the world sent his path. His mind settled on one thing.                                                                                                             

Darragh allowed the guard to leave him in the prison court yard before setting his plan in motion. And like a wounded lion, he made for Terrence and his crew.                                                     

“When’s the break out?” he demanded, stepping on their card game and sending chills through their veins.                                                                                                                                             

Terrence and his crew froze instantly; each giving the other an eye as silence came in their midst. Terrence was a punk but a smart one; he knew when to step out and speak for his crew but now, wasn’t such times. He allowed another do the talking.                                                       

“Don’t push it, Tigress” stepped forward one of Terrence’s crew members; a lanky guy, grey haired with veins decorating his arms. “You are lucky you are still alive” he snarled.                  

“You are lucky you are not in maximum security” Darragh chided, unwittingly striking anger and fear in the others. They rose up immediately to counter him but stopped when Terrence held his hand up. Darragh met his vicious eyes and sent back his. “My lips may be tight but they won’t be for long. If any of you is making it out of these walls then it’s because am with you” he threatened before leaving the crew by themselves.                                                 

Terrence stared on with rage in his eyes but smile on his chin. He doesn’t take lightly to blackmail.