50: Crooks

Aaron William George, also known as Crooks, slams the phone down on the receiver. He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a calming breath that doesn't calm him for shit. It's like his ears are betraying him. Did he hear that shit right? Did he?

"Hey," the inmate behind him taps him on the shoulder. "Are you alright there, Crooks?"

No, he's not alright. He isn't out yet and there's already trouble knocking on his door. Amelia, what the fuck are you doing? "Just fine, man."

He's escorted back to his cell. All the while, he's thinking of how he wants to kill something. He wants to use his hands to wreak havoc and tear whole lives apart. This is bad. He hasn't felt this way in a long time.

His cell mate looks up as he approaches. They're good pals, but he knows not to mess with him and especially not to ask questions. Not on days like this, when he feels powerless. It's like his life is spiraling out of control. He pinches the bridge of his nose again, feels the reassuring bump there