Pinnacle Of Power

Chapter 14: Stoop to conquer

Bradley's POV

I stood up and took a few steps towards where the cry came from. As I'd suspected, it was from one of the new inmates.

"Please, I'm innocent," he wailed, "My daughter...she's...she's just six. She has no one to take care of her. I didn't do it, I swear on my life. You have to believe me!" he pleaded.

The officer dragged him, using a baton to beat him to silence. This only made him cry harder.

It felt so wrong. I was about to step in when I heard a voice behind me.

"What are you trying to do? Play the hero?"

I turned around. The officer from earlier had referred to me as the 'golden boy'.

"You're already in enough trouble. You pissed off the boss. It'd be better if you stuck your nose in your business only". Saying that, he turned and left.

Soon enough, another officer came to help subdue the new inmate and their brutal assault made him pass out.

My blood ran cold as I took in the sight before me. I had no choice but to turn back to scrubbing those damn floors.

Dusk soon came and I was far from finished. With a toothbrush, how could I possibly go far?

I'd rather be beaten than continue doing this.

For the next two weeks—day and night, I continued scrubbing the floor and ate once daily. I was rapidly losing weight and strength and my hands had sores all over. After each day, I'll return to see the place I had cleaned just the night before, messed up with dirty boot prints. It was obvious this act was deliberate to continue to punish me.

I was cleaning the floor again today when that same officer who referred to me as 'golden boy' approached me. I had since learned that his name was Officer Benson.

"You'd keep on scrubbing this floor for an eternity if you don't go about this more diplomatically," he said coolly in his rich black American accent.

He still had his detached demeanor as he spoke.

"What do you mean?"

"It's simple. All you have to do is apologize to him and all these will be swept under the carpet".

"I would never," I responded sharply, scrubbing harder whilst ignoring the sting that shot through my blistered hands.

"I expected that from you," he chuckled. "After all, you're a Ford."

I stopped scrubbing and looked up at him. No one had referred to me like that since I came here. It had sounded almost foreign to my ears—my own name.

"It must be hard... to come from something, only to amount to nothing."

"Don't act like you understand what it means," I gritted my teeth. "You have no idea."

"You think so?"

"I know so," I retorted.

He squatted low and looked me straight in the eyes. "Just like you...my family was once wealthy. But in the blink of an eye, we lost everything, we lost Blue Diamond Group".

I blinked. I remembered sitting through some of my father's meetings, and they sometimes used the Blue Diamond Group as a point of reference to keep themselves in check.

"Yes... I do, come you're here?"

"Well... I was getting ready to study overseas when tragedy struck—leaving us bankrupt." His tone was tight as he spoke. "My plans to study overseas fell through and life has never remained the same ever since."

He rose from his squatting position. His voice broke as he continued speaking.

"My father,...he couldn't cope with the shock. He...he took his own life, leaving us behind."

Taking his shades off his eyes, he used a handkerchief to dab them, preventing his tears from falling.

"Then, my mother...she...she couldn't," he turned, backing me as his shoulders shook from his sobs. "She couldn't cope with the loss and died of grief shortly."

He turned to me, eyes reddened. "After I lost my parents, things became more difficult for my siblings and me. As the eldest of three children, I had to make sure they were okay. Years later, this is who I am today. So tell me, do you still think I don't understand what it means, to come from something and amount to nothing?"

I was stunned. I had judged him too quickly, only to realize that we were similar in so many ways.

"Sorry about your loss," I managed to voice out.

He gave a tight smile. "It's OK...it's been a long time. Dwelling on the past will only bring pain to the heart".

"How did you cope?" I asked.

He looked at me and his eyes held a faraway look. "Acceptance. The will to survive, to make something out of my broken life," he chuckled bitterly. "I could have done better with my life, but the 'what ifs' had me in a chokehold. But you...you can do better. Don't let this setback limit you to what you can achieve".

I looked at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because I've been there before. And if you keep up with this," he pointed out to where I was scrubbing, "you will lose yourself and your spirit."

I looked at him, a bit confused. I guess he could tell, so he asked me a simple question.

"Can a car with flat tires take you far?"

"No," I replied.

"Good. Just as a car with a flat tire cannot take you far, a broken spirit cannot carry you through life. If you are to make something of yourself, you must guard your spirit from breaking".

"How do I do that?"

"I've said it before. You have to apologize to him".

I frowned.

"The quote; 'You stoop to conquer'...ever heard of it?"

Of course, I had. And I know what it means. So I just nodded.

"Good. He's the boss here and like every other man, he likes his ego to be fawned over. I know it's not easy to do that, but you'll have to put your pride aside. Doing so wouldn't make you less of a man. On the contrary, it shows your strength and this would keep your spirit intact. Because believe me...", he came closer and spoke in a lower voice into my ear. "He's just getting started with you."

He was right. Instead of scrubbing the floors, I could make better use of my time. I realized my pride was getting in the way and it wouldn't benefit me. If I'm to make something meaningful out of my life, then I guess...I must 'stoop to conquer'.

"Fine, I'll do as you say," I muttered.

"Good choice, lad." He gave me a pat on the back. "Now let's go".

"You would come with me?"

"Better hurry up before I change my mind."

We went to his office and after much pleading, he accepted. But not before he made sure to humiliate me.

I asked for my journal, but they denied knowing anything about it. Officer Benson provided me with a notebook and pen, but I could only use them while outside, not when I was in my cell.

The next morning after breakfast and doing the regular routine work, I sat down and started scribbling in my notebook. I felt someone's eyes on me. I looked up and saw it was just another inmate. I didn't know why he was staring at me. So I ignored it and returned to what I was doing.

I was still engrossed in the middle of my brainstorming when, out of nowhere, someone snatched the book out of my hands.