Pinnacle Of Power

Chapter 12: Why am I here?

Bradley's POV

It's been six months since I last saw the brunette with a silver streak I had met earlier. I wondered why she never came back like she said she would.

In truth, it was hard to focus and work on what she encouraged me to, but I pushed through the difficulties and began a rough sketch of coding.

As usual, when night came, the lights were turned off, and it was quiet again.

I don't know why, but I couldn't sleep today. The elderly man—my roommate, didn't talk to me much, even when I made concerted efforts to start a conversation with him. He'd only grunt in response, and I took it as though he didn't want to talk. I respected his space and minded my business.

As I tossed around, I heard the slow walks of footsteps. It made my heart beat fast. Something in me told me something wasn't right.

For the past six months that I'd been here, not once had anyone come in after 11pm. I looked at the table clock and it was past midnight already.

Soon, the footsteps got closer, and it stopped just outside the room where I was.

What was going on?

I lay still, heart pounding in my rib cage.

I heard the jingle of keys and the iron bars were unlocked. My eyes were half-opened so I could see what he was doing.

He walked close to me and shook me. I didn't budge and pretended to be asleep. Then he shook me roughly this time.

"Inmate 7418, on your feet," he demanded in a low but stern voice.

I fully opened my eyes and slowly sat up. The bed made a rustling noise as I shifted part of my weight off it. I turned my head to where he'd come from and saw, not a person but a shadow.

Someone else was there with him and I wondered why.

"What's going on? Is anything the matter?"

"I was asked to move you."

"Move me? Why? What for?"

"I am not here to answer any questions you may have...just come with us."

Us?

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I will not be moving a step from here until you tell me what's going on".

The elderly man I shared the room with had woken up, clearly irritated by the exchange.

He looked displeased.

"What is the meaning of this?" his voice tight and laced with an air of authority. "Who or what gave you the right to barge in here at this ungodly hour? Do you not know where you are?"

"I apologize for the disturbance, Draco," he responded to the man respectfully, "we are just here to move him and we will be out of here soon."

Draco? Why did that name sound somewhat familiar?

"And you couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he asked with arched eyebrows, showing his annoyance.

No response.

He got up and walked to the restroom, shutting the door behind him.

The warden's expression hardened as he turned to face me. "You've annoyed Draco enough already, now get moving".

"No," I said deadpanned.

He motioned for the other person to come in. Together, they grabbed me by my arms while I struggled with them.

I overpowered them but they quickly regained their stance. The other man who had been outside suddenly covered my nostrils with a damp towel.

Chloroform!

The journal I had held in my hand fell with a thud, and in a matter of seconds, I passed out.

_____

I heard the loud sound of alarms and a baton hitting against iron rails.

Before I had a chance to recollect myself, I felt rough hands on me, pushing me off the bed as I hit the floor with a thud.

I groaned from the impact.

"Get your a*s up, butter boy," one of the inmates said.

I put my hands over my eyes, squinting so I could adjust to the bright light that shone. The room spun around me. My mind was clouded.

Was I dreaming?

The place looked eerily familiar—like the one I was kept in when I was first brought here.

But why was I brought back here again?

I was moved from this place the night I came here for reasons I did not know of. Not until my mother explained things to me. Now, I was dragged here again. What sort of game is this? Who is toying with me?

By this time, I had dusted myself off the floor and gotten up to join the rest of them outside.

The warden came and started taking a head count. I was itching to know what the bone of contention was so I spoke up.

"Why am I here?" I voiced out boldly.

The warden stopped, glared at me, and just continued his head count.

Strange.

As if in sync, the other inmates turned to look at me like I'd gone bunkers.

Starting from the day I was moved to the special holding, the wardens had treated me with respect. Now, just yesterday I was knocked out and returned to this place, only to be disregarded all over again.

Was I being punished?

What was my offense?

I was confused.

He soon finished counting. "OK boys, head down to the hall", he said.

Everyone obeyed and proceeded down the hall.

I stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.

I could feel the weight of their eyes on me. Most of which held surprise.

"Move," the warden ordered me.

I narrowed my gaze at him and dragged my feet to join the rest of the inmates.

When we reached the hall, I watched as they quietly went to fetch food trays from the stand and got back in line again.

This time I didn't stand with them.

I straightened my back, stepped out of the line, and started walking to the other side of the hall-to sit with the men from step two special confinement.

That was where I should be.

As I moved, I could feel their eyes trailing me again, but I ignored them and kept on walking.

My path was blocked by one of the guards.

"Where do you think you are going?" he demanded.

"What sort of question is that?" I retorted, "I'm going to sit there," I said, pointing to the other side of the hall, "and you are in my way."

Suddenly he burst out laughing.

"And what makes you think you are qualified to sit over there, huh? Did you somehow smuggle in booze you're high on?", he asked as he and the other guards burst into another round of laughter.

"I am in special holding in case you do not know, so I have the right to be there. Why are you stopping me?"

A hush fell as I stood my ground. Then a voice cut through the tension from behind—cold and certain.

"Not anymore".