Thin walls

My heartbeat thunders in my ears threatening to overpower the words spoken. With my cheek pressed to the cheaply constructed cell wall I listen as the raspy voice recounts in detail his offense. How he posed for a celebratory photo with the corpse of my companion.

A scene flashes across my mind. I see Rakiems widow holding the hand of their son. A look of detachment in her tear swollen eyes as the mourners lament.

Rage simmers just below the surface, my muscles coiled awaiting an order. The voice quiets. I follow him as he makes his way to the showers. The squeek of metal on metal as he turns the knobs signals me to start. I step forward while his back is to me. Expecting more of a struggle from a man his size. But thankfully brute strength is no match for training. My foot connects with the back of his knee as I force his head into the unforgiving cement wall. Strangulation is easier when they are unconscious. The pressure necessary to snuff out his life likely won’t leave a mark. Perfect.

Those wet floors can be a real hazard.