Exville Prison

I awoke to the sound of a loud, jarring ring, the kind that seemed to resonate with the very marrow of my bones. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I lay there, disoriented, the echoes of a restless night clinging to the edges of my consciousness. But then I realized—I felt better, the gnawing pain that had been my constant companion since my arrival in this forsaken place now reduced to a mere whisper.

April stood at the door, his massive frame silhouetted against the dim light that filtered in from the hallway. He caught my gaze and gave a small wave, his face etched with lines of concern that seemed as permanent as the stone walls around us. "It's the wake-up call," he explained, his voice a low rumble. "Breakfast is coming."

With a nod, I pushed myself to my feet, the cold stone beneath me a stark reminder of the journey I had been dragged through to reach this cell. The pain that flared in my muscles was a testament to the brutality of our captors, but it was muted now, thanks to April's healing touch.

We stepped out into the hallway, and I was immediately struck by the change in atmosphere. The usually oppressive silence had been replaced by a cacophony of chaos. The guards were nowhere to be seen, and the prison's security measures, which had seemed so insurmountable just a day before, were conspicuously absent.

As we ventured deeper into the bowels of the prison, the true extent of the anarchy became apparent. A group of prisoners had gathered around two of their own, their jeers and shouts filling the air as they watched a vicious brawl unfold. April's face hardened into a scowl, his distaste for violence evident in the tight set of his jaw.

"Come on, let's go," he urged, his voice tinged with urgency. "We don't have time for this."

We maneuvered through the throng, the sounds of fists against flesh a gruesome soundtrack to our progress. April's words hung heavy in the air, a stark condemnation of the brutality that surrounded us. "It's like this every time," he muttered, his eyes darkening with anger. "They don't care about the people here. The guards actually enjoy it—watching us suffer, giving us a taste of freedom only to snatch it away."

With each step, the horrors of our surroundings became more pronounced. The air was thick with the stench of desperation and fear, a visceral reminder of the depravity that flourished within these walls. My stomach churned as we passed cell after cell, each revealing scenes of savagery that would haunt me for years to come. Beatings, murders—and worse, the unmistakable sounds of rape and exploitation echoing through the corridors.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, my revulsion mirrored in April's clenched fists and hardened gaze. "Let's go faster," he repeated, his voice barely audible over the din of violence.

Together, we navigated the treacherous labyrinth of the prison, our pace quickening with each atrocity we witnessed. The sheer depravity of the scene was a stark contrast to the serene image April presented—a man of peace caught in the midst of a storm of cruelty.

As we moved, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of outrage, a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished by the despair that hung in the air like a shroud. This place, with its unbridled savagery and disregard for human life, was a wound upon the world, a festering sore that needed to be cleansed.

And as we pushed forward, a silent vow formed in the depths of my soul—I would do everything in my power to escape this place, to reclaim the memories that had been stolen from me, and to bring an end to the unspeakable horrors that had become the daily reality for so many.

The stark contrast between the pandemonium of the prison corridors and the orderly efficiency of the mess hall hit me like a physical blow. The clang of iron bars and the shouts of the prisoners faded into a hushed murmur as we entered the room, the oppressive weight of the world outside momentarily forgotten. The guards patrolled the perimeter with a predatory grace, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of dissent, their very presence a silent reminder of the power they held over us.

April's hand on my shoulder snapped me back to reality. "Don't get lost," he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. He pointed to a window near the far end of the room, where a redheaded girl was handing out food with a smile that seemed out of place in this grim surroundings. I nodded, falling into step behind him as we navigated the throng of prisoners.

As we approached the window, April's demeanor shifted. His voice, usually so warm and gentle, took on a hardened edge that I had never heard before. "Move, let us through," he commanded, and the others stepped aside without question. It was a side of April I had never seen, a testament to the harsh reality of our situation.

When we reached the window, April's tone softened once again. "Hey Alice, how's your day today?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I watched as recognition flickered in Alice's eyes, her gaze shifting from April to me. "March?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of disbelief.

The room fell silent, the tension in the air palpable. I could feel the stares of the other prisoners, their curiosity piqued by Alice's whispered question. Before I could react, a mocking voice cut through the silence. "So the main freak is also here," the man sneered, his words laced with contempt. "Because of people like you, this place is rotting, scumbag!"

April's response was swift and decisive. He grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him close with a strength that belied his gentle nature. "Either you shut up and go back to your place, or me and my friend will show you that we can do very much, even without magic," he hissed, his words a clear warning.

The man paled, his bravado evaporating in the face of April's fury. He stumbled backward, disappearing into the crowd as murmurs of surprise rippled through the room. April turned back to Alice, his expression softening. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. "Look, we need to go. You probably understand why. I'll explain it when I can. But can you give me September's and August's portions too? You know about August's punishment, right? He can't leave his cell, and his brother's too lazy to come out alone."

Alice nodded, quickly assembling the extra portions and passing them to April with a sympathetic smile. "We're really happy you're alive, sir," she said, her gaze meeting mine. Her words were a balm to my fractured spirit, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded us.

With our food in hand, April and I made our way back through the crowd, the whispers of the other prisoners following us as we retreated into the labyrinth of tunnels that made up the prison. "Let's go and have a meeting with our friends, shall we?" April suggested, his voice carrying a note of determination that sparked a flicker of resolve within me.

As we stepped into the tunnel that would lead us back to our cell, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead. The road to freedom was fraught with danger, but with April by my side and the promise of allies within these walls, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Together, we would face whatever challenges this hellish place had in store for us.