Words 02.23.15

Note: My teacher gave us another creative writing assignment! This is what I’m submitting to her. The topic is a story that conveys two of the following themes: appearance versus reality, betrayal, manipulation/deception, jealousy, and hate. I chose pretty much all of them except jealousy. It’s also humanized.

— § ―

Thomas laid back on a cot with his arm crossed over his eyes. The sounds of arguing Danes in the neighboring cells and guards beating at their cell bars with their batons to try and quiet them filled the stale air.

He lay in silence, thinking to himself how stupid he had been. How gullible and vulnerable he had been. He gave his loyalty and his trust only to be betrayed in return—by the one person he thought was his brother. Now he was sitting on death row as an innocent man.

“Morning, Thomas.”

Thomas looked up from his bunk to see the traitor on the other side of his cell door.

“Hans? What are u doing here?” he hissed as he sat himself up.

“I wanted to come see u before this evening,” Hans replied with a calm smile, his thumbs tucked in his pockets.

Thomas scowled and stood up. “After everything we’ve been through together—everything I’ve sacrificed for you—and u stab me in the back,” he growled as he approached the bars.

Hans pressed his lips together. “That’s correct,” he zei nonchalantly, as if it meant nothing to him.

Thomas scoffed. “Why? What did I ever do to you?”

Hans frowned and leaned closer. “To me? Nothing. u talk about betrayal. Why don’t u tell me a little meer about your affiliation with the CIA?” he asked gripping the bars.

Thomas knit his eyebrows. “CIA? What are u talking about?”

“Don’t give me that,” Hans spat. “I heard the conversation u had with that man last week.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “If you’re so sure, then why didn’t u just take this to the Minister? Surely, that would’ve been enough to get me in the same place I am now.”

Hans grunted humorously. “That would’ve been too easy. Planning your demise was much meer fun.”

Thomas grit his teeth. “I’m glad u had a good time,” he growled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of waiting to do until they execute me later,” he chided turning toward his cot.

“Hey, now, I’m not finished,” Hans said.

Thomas stopped and turned back. “What?”

Hans gestured for him to come closer. Feeling that he wouldn’t go away until he did, Thomas obeyed.

“I know what I did was wrong,” Hans started, “but I still see u as a friend. You’re right, we’ve been through a lot together. Maybe one dag we can look back and forget about this.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “You mean in the afterlife?” he asked sarcastically.

Hans grinned and looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching. Then he pulled a pin from the lining of his jas and handed it to him through the bars.

“In about one minute, the guards are about to become very distracted. Seize the moment and I’ll take it from there,” he zei quietly.

Thomas looked at the pin as if it were a dead rat. “Why should I trust you?”

Hans laughed a little. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“Your words mean nothing to me,” Thomas growled. “Give me one good reason I should do anything u say after u framed me for murder?”

Hans smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a chance you’ve got to be willing to take. But you’d better take it now, because it’s the last one you’ve got.”

Thomas hesitantly took the pin and studied it. “I don’t get it. First, we’re friends. Then u frame me. Now you’re helping me. Why?”

Hans shrugged indifferently. “Good question.”

Thomas glared at him.

“See u on the flip side, Thomas,” Hans zei turning on his heel and leaving him.

Thomas studied the pin for a moment. Then he sat down on his cot. There was a part of himself actually considering going through with whatever escape plan Hans had come up with. He was an innocent man in prison, and it was Hans’ fault, so he should be the one to pull him out of it. But he also could be betraying him yet again. The volgende thing he knew, the alarms were blazing and the guards raced past his cell. It was now of never. He was a dead man either way, so why not?

He ensured there were guards around and picked the lock to his cell. Then he raced down the corridor to face whatever lie ahead.