Part 1

Jake

The corridor was a narrow, sterile hallway behind the courtroom. The paint on the walls was a dull beige. He stared at those walls for so long, the color blurred and morphed into something foreign, something he couldn’t even name.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The floors were worn linoleum, smelling faintly of bleach, sweat and stale coffee, a scent that made his stomach churn. The Bailiffs and correction officers moved inmates in chains, impatient, short-tempered, and callous. Radios crackled on their belts. It was all familiar.

The small concrete room, a cell of maybe 8 by 10 feet, with a metal bench bolted to the wall, kept Jake locked inside. It was routine by now. The smells, the sounds, it was all the same. He recognized the dead look in other prisoners’ eyes, the same dead look he had. Hope was a dangerous thing, it bloomed bright in your chest, only to twist into darkness, into something dangerous until you gave up, until there was nothing left to take, and it left you an empty shell of the person you used to be.

Cinderblock walls with scratched names, tally marks, and obscenities from those that came before him, stared back at him. The sweat, mildew, and ammonia was heavy in the air, almost damp with the little circulation present. The worst part was the waiting. Listening to grown men pray, curse, and sometimes cry before their names were called, made the waiting seem longer.

His wrists were cuffed, his ankles in leg irons, the chains restricting his normal stride. He was alone in a cell. Murderers were always kept separate. Dangerous. Unhinged. His name was barked out and he was escorted through the corridor into the bright courtroom. The contrast was striking. From a dim, oppressive, concrete box to a polished, wood-paneled courtroom, it almost felt like too much. It was buzzing with reporters, lawyers, family members, and people watching in horrific fascination. The walk felt like a death march, each step echoed him closer to the final nail in his proverbial coffin. He knew what was going to happen. His hope in the system had died the day they said that word. Guilty. Fucking guilty.

The judge, his skin sagging and his eyes tired, cleared his throat. “The State of Florida versus Jacob Warner Savage, Case #13459. The jury has found the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree. Today we impose sentencing.”

Jake kept his head high, his jaw clenched, even though the chains at his wrists betrayed how powerless he really was. There was nothing more he could do. The flame that had once burned inside him was almost snuffed out. Almost.

The prosecutor rose to his feet, his smile smug. “Your Honor, this was a brutal crime. The victim, a respected member of our community, was shot point blank in an act of cold-blooded violence. This young man has shown no remorse for his crime. The State requests the maximum penalty allowable under law, life in prison without parole.”

He could hear the man’s family cry, pitiful sobs that came from behind him, but he didn’t turn back to look. He’d studied their profiles so many times, but in prison weakness draws blood, a lesson he already learned.

Jake’s public defender looked pale, flipping through his notes, and he swallowed nervously. “Your Honor, Mr. Savage was only nineteen at the time of this tragic event, with no prior record of violence. He maintains his innocence and insists he was not at the scene of the crime. There is no physical evidence tying him directly to the weapon. We ask for leniency. At the very least, the possibility of parole—”

The judge leaned forward, his eyes drilling into Jake. “Mr. Savage, the jury has spoken. You stand before this court convicted of first-degree murder. You claim innocence, yet the evidence presented was overwhelming. You show no remorse, no acknowledgement of the crime. Florida law is clear.”

Jake’s pulse was hammering in his ears. He knew what was coming. It was all over now. There was no going back, no retreat and no safe haven. There was no trust in the system. The few seconds it took for the judge to inhale and exhale, felt like a crushing silence.

“You are hereby sentenced to life in prison, without the possibility of parole. You will be remanded immediately to the custody of the Florida Department of Corrections.” The gavel hit wood, and Jake’s flame died a little more.

He didn’t flinch, he showed no outward reaction to his life being damned by the old man. His family wasn’t there. They’d deserted him long before he was even found guilty. His fiancee, Whitney, his parents, even his brother, Jefferson. He had nobody, but now he’d finally made peace with it.

Until that morning, he’d still had hope. Hope that his parents would be there, that they would know he hadn’t taken a man’s life. Hope that his brother would stand by him, like he had when they were kids and the neighborhood bullies pushed him off his bike. He’d been a small kid, easily bullied. He had a growth spurt in high school, surpassing his brother and father, a lanky teenager that never really fit in. Hope had nearly suffocated him when he’d walked into the courtroom, only to realize that he was all alone.

The bailiff grabbed his arm, dragging him back to that same corridor. The victim’s family celebrated, hugging each other through their tears. Reporters spoke into recorders, scribbled down his sentencing into notebooks. Jake’s last glimpse before he was hauled out was the judge, already looking at the next file, his life discarded like he’d never even mattered.

He took a deep breath. There was no more use fighting. Nothing mattered anymore. He’d be transferred to a maximum penitentiary soon, and his new life would start, as a prisoner, as a convicted murderer. He’d had a taste of what was waiting for him, and it was nothing good.

He would die in prison, and the world would remember him as a murderer. He briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He would survive. No matter what happened, he was a survivor. He was Jake Savage.

As the heavy doors slammed shut behind him, a thought popped into Jake’s head. They had just buried me alive. That moment, the injustice, humiliation, the weight of a crime he hadn’t committed, it would forge him into someone new, someone untouchable, someone intent on showing the world his wrath.