Guilty Or Not Guilty.

Guilty Or Not Guilty - Life Behind the Walls

Chapter 3 – Life Behind the Walls

The iron gate slammed shut behind Akin, a sound so sharp and loud it rattled through his chest. He felt the vibration in his bones, a brutal reminder that the life he once knew had just disappeared behind those walls.

The officers removed his handcuffs with a quick snap and shoved him forward. Move, one of them barked, voice flat and cold.

Akin’s feet dragged over the cracked concrete, his eyes scanning the prison yard. Tall walls, topped with rusty barbed wire, hemmed him in from every side. The air was thick, sweat, dust, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Prisoners milled about in clusters: some shouted and laughed, others hunched quietly in corners, their eyes distant.

He swallowed hard. He had never imagined his life would lead him here. A guard pointed down a narrow corridor. “Your cell is that way.” The hallway was dim, shadows stretching across the floor. Footsteps echoed in a rhythm that seemed to mock him as he passed cell after cell. Some inmates leaned on their bars, staring. “New boy,” one muttered. A soft laugh followed.

Akin kept his head down, not daring to meet their eyes.

Finally, they stopped at a small, bare cell. The metal door screeched open. Akin stepped in. The door slammed behind him with a clang that echoed long after the sound faded. For the first time since the trial, reality hit him like a punch to the chest. Thirty years. That number kept repeating in his mind. He didn’t understand all the legal jargon, but he understood this: he would not be going home anytime soon.

He sat on the thin mattress, face buried in his hands. The room smelled of damp concrete and despair, a bucket in the corner his only companion. Days passed slowly, each one stretching longer than the last.

Morning came with shrill whistles. Guards shouted, prisoners lined up, heads down, eyes wary. Some cleaned, some carried water, some helped in the kitchen. Akin struggled to keep pace at first. Most inmates were older, stronger, hardened by life and violence. He kept to himself, speaking little, following instructions to the letter.

But slowly, things began to shift.

After some months. During one afternoon yard duty, a fight broke out between two prisoners. Chaos erupted, shouts, punches, shoving. Instinct took over. Akin stepped in, moving with a calm precision born from years of martial arts practice. He separated the men without landing a serious blow. Everyone froze, surprised. “Where did you learn that? someone asked.

“I practiced,” he said simply.

It reached Officer Bello, a senior prison officer known for his strictness. Later, Akin was called aside. “I hear you broke up a fight today,” Bello said, studying him. “I didn’t want anyone hurt,” Akin replied quietly. Bello nodded. “You’re different from most people here.” From that day on, things changed. Guards trusted him with small responsibilities. Fellow inmates sought him out for advice, even basic self-defense lessons. Each evening, a small group gathered in the yard, watching and learning as Akin demonstrated simple exercises. Slowly, respect grew not from fear, but from calm, fairness, and discipline.

Weeks later, a guard called his name. Visitor. Heart pounding, he walked to the visitation area. And there she was, his mother, tears brimming, face pressed close to the glass. For a moment, neither spoke. She reached toward him, fingers trembling. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “No, Mama,” he said

“I’m still trying to find help… a lawyer… for appeal, someone who can help you,” she added, voice shaking.

Akin smiled faintly, masking the ache inside. “Mama, don’t worry too much. I’ll be okay.” But you can tell the the sadness in his smile “I will never stop trying. You will not be forgotten here.”

The visit ended too soon. As the guards led him back.

The next morning inside the prison began just like all the other days. Same Stress.... Same alarm. Some looked tired, some annoyed, and others simply moved like men who had repeated the same routine for years.

Akin stood among them.

At first, the routine had felt unbearable to him. The early mornings, the constant shouting from guards, the hard work in the fields, it had all seemed like too much. But now, little by little, he was learning to live with it. Prison had its own rhythm, and he was starting to understand it. Something else had begun to change too.

Even though Akin was younger than many of the inmates, people had started noticing him. It wasn’t because he talked too much or tried to show off. In fact, he was the opposite. He worked quietly, followed instructions, and never caused trouble. But there was something different about the way he moved.

His body carried a calm kind of discipline. When he lifted heavy buckets of water, he did it smoothly. When he worked in the prison field clearing weeds or digging the soil, his movements were controlledt. Even the guards noticed that he finished his tasks faster than most prisoners without complaining.

One afternoon during work duty, the prisoners were assigned to clear a patch of land near the far end of the compound. The sun was hot, and everyone was sweating heavily.

Some inmates dragged their feet, already tired and frustrated.

Akin, however, worked steadily. He used the same balance and breathing he had learned from martial arts training. Instead of exhausting himself with rushed movements, he paced himself carefully. His body moved with rhythm, making the work feel lighter. Officer Bello was watching from a short distance away. He had been observing Akin for days now.

At first, he thought the young man was simply trying to behave well to gain favor. But after seeing him handle the fight between two inmates and the way he carried himself afterward, Bello began to realize something else.

This young man had discipline.

During the prisoners’ short break that afternoon, a few inmates gathered around Akin. “Show us that move again,” one of them said, laughing.

Another prisoner tried to imitate one of Akin’s earlier movements and nearly lost his balance, causing the others to laugh loudly. Akin smiled slightly. “Relax your shoulders,” he said calmly, demonstrating a simple defensive stance. “Your body must stay balanced.”

As he showed them the movement, his steps were smooth and controlled. Even in the dusty prison yard, he looked focused and calm. Officer Bello walked closer, folding his arms as he watched. After a moment, he shook his head with a small smile. “You move like those kung fu masters from the old movies,” Bello said.

The prisoners around Akin fell silent as the officer approached. Bello studied Akin carefully before speaking again.

“From today,” he said, “we will call you Liu Kang.”

Some of the prisoners looked at each other and chuckled.

“Liu Kang” one of them repeated with a grin.

Within a few days, the nickname spread across the prison yard. Soon many inmates stopped calling him Akin. To them, he had become Liu Kang the calm fighter who trained without anger.

What surprised people the most was how he used his martial skills. He never tried to intimidate anyone. Instead, he used the same discipline during work. While carrying heavy loads in the fields, he adjusted his posture to avoid strain. When digging or lifting tools, his movements were efficient and steady. Other prisoners began copying him because it made their work easier too.

In the evenings, after the workday ended, a small group often gathered near the yard. Liu Kang would quietly show them simple exercises. Nothing dangerous. Just basic movements to improve balance, breathing, and self-control. For many inmates, it became something they looked forward to. It helped them forget the anger and frustration that built up inside prison walls.

Soon, many people in the prison respected him.

But respect inside a prison does not always come without problems. There were a few inmates who didn’t like the attention Liu Kang was getting. These were the bullies, the men who ruled through intimidation and fear. They believed strength meant fighting, shouting, and forcing others to submit. To them, Liu Kang calm reputation felt like a challenge.

One evening, while prisoners were returning from the fields, a large inmate blocked Akin’s path.

“So you are the famous Liu Kang,” the man said with a mocking grin.

Some prisoners nearby stopped walking, sensing trouble. “I hear you can fight.”

Akin didn’t respond. The man stepped closer. “Show me.” But Akin simply moved around him and continued walking. he bully laughed loudly. “Running away?” he shouted. The other inmates watched carefully.

Inside Akin, a small spark of anger began to rise. For a moment, his fists tightened. But then something else appeared in his mind. The memory flashed suddenly, the night of the thief.

The shouting. The confusion. The moment everything had gone wrong. That single moment had changed his entire life. Thirty years. The anger in his chest cooled immediately.

He slowly relaxed his hands and kept walking.

The bully scoffed, disappointed that he couldn’t provoke him. This happened more than once.

Sometimes someone would challenge him. Sometimes insults were thrown his way. But each time Akin felt his temper rising, the same memory returned like a warning.

The night that led him here. It reminded him of something important. One moment of anger could destroy everything.

The next day began like every other day in the prison. Before sunrise, the loud whistle pierced the quiet morning air, and prisoners slowly stepped out of their cells to line up in the yard. Akin stood among them, already getting used to the routine that once felt so strange. But something had changed.

Even though he was younger than many inmates, people had started to notice him. The way he worked hard without complaining, the way he stayed calm, and the discipline in his movements made him stand out. Officer Bello noticed it too.

One afternoon, while watching Akin demonstrate a few martial arts movements to some inmates during their break, Officer Bello nodded with quiet approval.

“You move like those kung fu masters,” he said. “From today, we will call you Liu Kang.”

The nickname spread quickly across the prison yard. Soon many prisoners started calling him Liu Kang instead of Akin. They respected how he used his martial skills not to intimidate people, but to make work easier in the fields and to help others stay focused and disciplined.

Most inmates liked him. Some even gathered around him in the evenings to learn simple training moves that helped them release stress. But not everyone was pleased. A few prison bullies didn’t like the attention he was getting. They often tried to provoke him, challenging him to fights whenever they felt angry.

Yet every time Akin felt his temper rising, a memory flashed in his mind the night of the thief, the chaos, the mistake that led him here. That memory cooled his anger instantly. It reminded him of one thing: losing control could destroy everything.

So instead of fighting, Liu Kang simply breathed, stayed calm, and walked away. And so, Liu Kang remained calm. Inside the prison walls, where anger ruled many men, that calmness became his greatest strength.

Some inmates feared him. Many respected him. And slowly, the name Liu Kang became known across the prison not as a violent fighter, but as a man who had mastered something far more difficult.. Control.

And his mother kept on showing with the same promise and world of hope and sometimes with food.

Stay tuned to the next episode.