Here's a short one from a very, bright and shiny new idea. Enjoy!
Leaned up against the cell door, I let the back of my head thunk against the bars. My eyes slide shut as I let the reality of where I am sink in. It’s the fourth time I’ve visited this place in the last two months. Dad’s not going to just kill me. He’s going to torture me slowly, kill me, resurrect me, and then start all over again.
This time I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. A case of wrong place, really wrong time. Just my freaking luck.
A door opens and closes at the far end of the hall, and I turn around to grip the bars. Wow, that was fast. He must’ve known I’d be in here tonight.
“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen,” I belt out in as deep a tone as I can manage. “Nobody knows my sorrows.”
“Not funny, Matthew,” Dad says as he stops just outside the cell. He jingles the keys in his hand. Not a nervous gesture. It’s more of an anger diffuser. Here, let me jiggle my keys around for ten years so I don’t end up in that same cell for strangling my idiot son.
“I didn’t do it,” I tell him. Always lead with the truth is my motto, even when that truth is in serious question.
He flicks a pointed glance to my paint-stained fingers. “Let me guess. You’ve been framed.”