FicWad

If anyone gets offended by anything in this story, sorry.


Frank's POV.

Getting up on time in the morning was a guaranteed. There was no 'sleeping in late' where I reside. We were taught the hard way from the very beginning that New Jersey State Prison does not get fucked around. The crazed guards bang on the barred doors at 6 a.m. sharp every day of every week. When they're feeling generous, they wait until seven and punish you for being late to the various rehabilitation 'activities' we were forced to endure on a daily basis; not that they ever did us any good.

As per usual, the heavy clanging of tough plastic scraping against rough metal woke me up from a slumber filled with dreams of freedom and hunting down old enemies. I opened one eye lazily and gazed at the guard standing by my cell door. Guard MacLeaf poked his tiny head through the gaps in the steel bars and grinned. His thin black moustache matched his receding hairline perfectly as they both seemed out of place on his pale face. The bulging muscles of his taut body gleamed under the tight uniform, showing that most of his time is spent working out and ingesting various illegal steriods.

"Rise and shine sweetheart." He said with false sweetness in his voice.

I grumbled and gave him the finger. He straightened up and lost the carefree look on his face.

"Get the fuck up Iero. I'm sick of your bullshit. Just you wait 'til the Warden gets you fucking transferred to Alcatraz or some shit. Then we'll see who's laughing." He continued mumbling to himself as he walked away to terrorize other innocent inmates.

I sat up slowly, the cheap mattress groaning under the constant strain I have been putting it under. Tracing the contours of my face, I realised I needed a shave. The rugged looks did me no justice in this shit hole. At least I'm the fucking king of the shit hole.

I grinned boldly to myself when I thought of the recent regime change within The Tempters. The highly acclaimed prison gang ruled over most of the prisons in New Jersey, and I just so happen to be the leader. The fact that I became boss in just under 6 years of being institutionalized shows you exactly what can happen if you don't mind getting your hands dirty.

I stood up from the comfort of my bed and walked over to the tiny sink next to the grimy toilet bowl situated on the far side of my cell. I peered in content at the bright hazel eyes that stared back at me and the greasy short brown hair that hung limply against my forehead; showers weren't techincally the safest sections in a place like this. I splashed some cool water on my face and started making my way out of the cell. There was no need to change my clothes; we wore the same gray prison uniforms until they desperatly needed replacing. I made my way past the unlocked doors and turned left down the squalid corridor, heading to the so-called headquarters of The Tempters; the mess hall.

I passed no-one as I walked at a snails pace. The day didn't start until I arrived. It was standard procedure to wait for me to set up the day's events. I entered through guarded double doors of the over-crowded canteen and followed the throng of people to my section of tables.

Murmured hello's were passed along; no-one said much this early on during the day. I sat down at the head of the table and the rest of my gang turned to face me. Dominic was sitting on my right and Lee sat on my left.

Dominic was heavy-set, yet close to my height. His dim demeanure masks the crazed creature within. With Lee; what you see is what you get. He is tall, blond and looks like the kind of guy who would've graduated Harvard had he not raped and murdered 3 teenage girls those 10 odd years ago. Every gang needs someone to figure all the shit out, and Lee was our man. Dominic, on the other hand, was a complex creature. He was wise and kind but if you crossed him, you better hope the Grim Reaper gets to you first.

The rest of the 26 guys who had the privilige to bare the unforgetable Tempters tattoo - an elaborate black 'T' on their right bicep - were all stocky and in here for various crimes. You needed a life sentence to join my clan, because once the jailhouse tattoo needle pierces your skin, your chances of deserting the gang go from slim to im-fucking-possible. I cleared my throat and looked ahead.

"Mornin' boys." I said to them. The 'boys' grinned up at me.

"Heya Frank." They all resumed eating and I scanned the decrepid room slowly. The two other gangs, Los Carniceros and The Bronx Bullets occupied the rest of the tables, leaving the uniniciated few to sit on the floor at the sides of the hall. Laughter suddenly erupted from a few tables away from me. We all turned to see what the fuss was about.

The head of Los Carniceros was Ricardo. Ricardo was in jail for murdering a lawyer that was trying to get him out of a few law suits. He was tall and tanned, a trait carried by most of the Hispanic inmate population. He also had tattoos covering most of the visible skin on his body. One of the only past times available to us in this godforsaken place was excercise, so you can imagine the muscles of almost every man in this place. The 'Butchers' live up to their name, they are the second most bloodthirsty motherfuckers out here... only outranked by me of course.

At this moment in time, Ricardo and his crew were jeering at the fresh meat that walked in through the canteen doors. The kid was scrawny and pale with acnee-ridden skin that created potholes in his once clear complexion. He had greasy blond hair that reached his shoulders and he shuddered at the catcalls thrown at him.

"Yo, look at that little fag! I'mma screw you in the showers like I did your momma!" One beast coughed out while the rest of them laughed.

"Don't drop the soap kid!"

Everyone was in hysterics by now. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ricardo glare in my direction.

"Leave him be, niños." The rest of the Latino crew grew silent at the harsh tone the command was barked out by their master.

"Iero over there is gonna get the kid. Ain't you? Fucking maricón." He looked in at me again and spat on the floor.

I knew what 'maricón' meant. It was what they all called me before I jabbed the blade into their necks. Their fucking pride not letting them beg for their life. I narrowed my eyes and stood slowly. Lee glanced at me briefly and looked back down at his meal; knowing not to disturb me when I plan on lathering blood on my already filthy hands. My men cheered me on as I walked over to Ricardo at a steady pace. Behind me, I held my trusty shank, made from three rusted but sharp razors melted in between two plastic knives kindly provided by the kitchen.

I maneuvered throught the closely knit table communities and emerged to the Carniceros' section. All chatter halted and chairs screeched as they pivoted sharply to face my small frame. Ricardo stayed seated, turned away from me.

"Hello maricón. Here to suck my dick? Sorry, I have plenty of bitches to do that for me." He still has not turned to face me, choosing instead to cower with his back to me, not meeting my steely glare.

I ground my teeth together and cleared my throat before taking a small step forward. Immediatley, the brutes standing before me all took a step forward too, encircling the man who had dare insult me. I raised an eyebrow at their pathetic attempt of protection. I hesitated to look behind me, already knowing that my gang stood by my side, willing to rip out the Spaniard's throats at the very hint of trouble.

"Actually, Ricardo, I'm not here to suck your dick. Can you believe that? Bet you're surprised at that one." I grinned when he scoffed and turned around to face me completely. Even though he let off an air of arrogance, I could see the growing fear in his beady eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. This was the moment I was waiting for. I lunged at him at a seemingly inhuman speed and grabbed him forcefully by the back of his head. I crashed my angry lips against his quivering ones, drawing blood and horror at once. He gasped in my mouth and spluttered when I shoved my shank deep into his left eye. His screams wafted like child's laughter in my ears and I stepped back; admiring my handy work.

Ricardo was kneeling on the floor, clutching at the blade in his devastated eye and crying out his despair. His croneys were frozen, staring in shock at their whimpering boss. Before I had a chance to celebrate another successful injury, I was being tackled to the cement floor by a burly guard.

"Iero! Stay down! Stay the fuck down!" Heavy hands pinned me down by driving my neck into the floor. I drew in sharp gulps of stale air as it was hard breathing with small tree trunks choking the very life out of you. The guard pulled me up and cuffed my hands behind my back violently. I grinned wildly at my gang as I found myself being dragged out of the canteen and down the halls to my cell. I glanced a peek at my captor and noticed to my joy that it was MacLeaf again.

"That's what you get for the rude wake up call this morning Leafy." I chuckled in his face and he grimaced. His thin moustache twitched visibly as he seemed to be fighting the urge to hit me. I looked ahead again as it appeared that I would get no response out of the big man. Once we arrived to my dainty cell, I was thrown inside, still handcuffed and the door was locked behind me. I sighed; looks like I won't be out of this place for a while. I moved over to my bed and lied down, taking in the stained ceiling that decorated the cell.

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I lounged on the lumpy mattress for hours, thinking about the reason I was in this mess in the first place:

It was November 2005, the day after my 21st birthday. My boyfriend Henry and I were sprawled on the black sofa in his deserted house. I snuggled deeply into the crook of his neck and inhaled the warmth that radiated off his tanned skin. I sighed in content and felt moist lips press themselves against my forehead. Henry and I have been together for three years now, our relationship blossoming in our Senior year of highschool and remaining strong to this day. He was muscular, with deep brown eyes you could melt into and soft brown curls on the top of his head that gave him the youthful look that so many admired about him. You could say that we were in love and it wouldn't be wrong. However, there was one thing bothering me. He hasn't told his family or friends about us. Everyone knew I was openly gay and often critisized me for it.

"I love you Henry, I hope you know that." I smiled into his black t-shirt. He chuckled softly and reciprocated the statement. Suddenly he was on the floor infront of the sofa, rubbing his cheek against the inside of my denim-clad thigh.

"What are you doing?" I grumbled happily. He looked up at me, eyes gleaming in the soft light coming through the window.

"Showing you that I love you." He stated simply, and before I got a chance to protest, his lips were around my dick, encasing it in warmth and leaving me wanting more. I moaned softly as he sucked and licked, praising him quietly at the great job he was doing. With our erratic hearts beating in our ears and moans filling up the quiet room, we didn't hear a car pull up in the drive way. We didn't hear the keys jingling in the lock. However, we did hear Henry's mom's agonized scream coming from the doorway. My eyes snapped open in a milisecond and saw what can only be described as a look of the deadliest poison eminating from the woman's piercing gaze. She stood with her mouth agape and shopping bags scattered around her feet.

"Wh...wha... what the fuck is going on?!" She yelled in a menacing tone. Henry was staring at his mom with wide eyes and I could feel him trembling in fear in between my legs. We didn't get a chance to reply to her imprudent question because Mrs. Rouge stormed up to her son and roughly pulled him away from my now softening erection. Henry scrambled back violently and hit the adjacent wall with a dull thud. She then turned to me and dared me to deny the blatant act we were performing. I didn't say anything and chose instead to smirk at her and wink lobsidedly.

"Not even God will help you now." She growled, picked me off of the sofa and literally threw me outside into the hallway, with my jeans and boxers hanging down to my knees.

"Mom, please... you don't understand!" I could hear the sobs that brought Henry to his knees infront of the mother that looked down at him as if he was bird shit on her windscreen. The front door opened again and I saw Henry's terrifying dad stood in in front of the open door, staring at me with my dick hanging out. I kind of understand why Henry didn't tell his parents about us now.

"What the fuck is this? You fucking faggot... what are you doing with your tiny dick out?!" His gruff voice echoed through the whole ground floor of their modest house. I could still hear Henry crying in the living room.

"Trent! They were fucking! Your son and that fag were fucking in our living room!" The mother's shrill voice screeched into the hallway and caused the father to narrow his eyes at me. I held my hands up in the air and shrugged non-chalantly, trying to feighn innocence. Sounds of rushed footsteps escaped from the living room and made their way to where I was standing. Henry's beautiful tear stained face made my heart ache.

"Mom, dad... stop! I love him, we love each other!" He grabbed my hand gently and looked into my eyes. "And yes, I was giving Frank a blowjob when you walked in. Deal with it." He added smoothly. Both his parents became enraged at the same time. I could see fire burning in their dark eyes. Henry's father rushed to us and punched me in the face, causing me to drop on the floor. Henry screamed and tried to pry his dad off me.

"Fucking fag, turn my son gay did you? Well I'd like to see you being so fuckin' cocky with my fist shoved so far up your ass, your shit will have to bypass my fucking wedding ring to get out!" He launched Henry down and began pummeling me again. I fought back this time, pushing the man to the side and pulling my pants up as I stood. I ran out of the house as fast as my legs could carry me. Henry's cries fell on deaf ears as I ran inside my house across the street, grabbing the penknife that nested in the key bowl along with the baseball bat that forever stood perched against the wall by the front door.

I rushed back into Henry's house and took in the sight that welcomed me. Henry was lying on the ground, cradling his head while his parents punched the living daylights out of him.

"Hey Mister Rouge," His bloodshot eyes rested on me. "How often do you play baseball?" I didn't give him adequate time to answer before I brought the bat roughly to his head. I swung until my arms were numb and the man rested on the floor, bleeding and lifeless. Henry and his mom were terrified; they both stared at me in shock and silence.

"What?" I shrugged when the atmosphere became too tense. I looked to Mrs. Rouge for a second, witnessing the very moment her sanity snapped. In a bout of seemingly uncontrolable rage, she lunged at me, screaming abuse every which way. I stabbed the penknife into the bulging vein of her neck. Immediately, blood spattered accross my already bloodstained shirt, drenching me in content. Her limp body collapsed at my feet, blood pooling around my converses at an alarming rate.

"Oops." I said with a shrug.

"You..you...sick motherfucker! What the fuck did you do? How could you?! I hate you Frank!" Henry was glaring at me with anger and tears in his delicate eyes.

"I did it for you babe, they were hurting us." I took the knife out of the dead woman's neck and walked over to Henry. He was still on the grubby floor, taking in the scene unfolding right before his eyes. I mean, seeing your boyfriend murder your parents right after they were beating you up can seem like a lot to take in at one sitting.

"Doesn't mean you have to kill them though!" Heart-wrenching sobs escaped his trembling lips at this point. I reached forward to him, clasping my bloody hand around his jaw.

"I did what's right Henry. If they can't accept us, then fuck them." I murmured softly.

"No... fuck you! I hate you Frank! Go, just leave. I don't want you anymore." He struggled out of my tightening grasp and looked over to his dead parents, mumbling unheard apologies.

"Fine. If that's how you feel." I struck. Burying the knife deep into his chest, I caught him when he fell limp against the hard wooden floor.