http://bane-6.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] 31_days2008-09-03 09:25 pm

[September 3] [Original] Prison Within a Prison

Title: Prison Within a Prison
Day/Theme: 03. prisoner's dilemma*
Series: Original. Every character has a personal demon. The Biker's manifests a little more tangibly than others.
Character/Pairing: The Biker
Rating: PG





The Biker had been in prison. He’d been in three different gangs since his childhood. He knew all about rational self-interest and pack mentality. He knew how to balance looking out for Number One with being a part of the group, especially when the group played a part in Number One’s welfare. What he didn’t know was what to do with the Dog.

It was there again. It appeared under the table against the wall, a massive black dog, powerfully built, and staring at him with red eyes.

The accident had broken his back. The wheelchair was his prison now, as was the apartment. Prison within a prison within a prison. He couldn’t leave the apartment to the house beyond. He couldn’t leave the chair inside the apartment. And now, trapped in his own body inside the chair, he wondered if the accident hadn’t broken his mind as well.

The Dog appeared at random. If there had been some pattern to it, he might have been able to rationalize it away. If it showed up on his bad days, he could’ve called it a pain hallucination. God knew he’d had enough of those the first few months, but it wasn’t like that.

He would just be there, doing whatever, when he’d become aware of the thing watching him. He didn’t know where it came from. It never made a sound. It just sat there and watched him, a massive black presence that he couldn’t ignore. What if he was insane? What if the thing was really there? Which was worse?

He didn’t see enough people to have anyone to tell about it, not that he would. Admitting weakness was no way to keep Number One out of harm’s way. At the same time, he would’ve been glad of anyone to have his back against this thing. He didn’t know what it was or what it wanted, if it was real, or if he needed to have his prescriptions checked. For the first time in years, the Biker didn’t know what to do.