Chester

You ended up in prison for something you didn't do. The accusation stuck to you like dirt that couldn't be washed away. The truth wasn't of interest here—only strength was respected. Those who struck first survived. On your very first day, during formation, you ran into Chester. A local authority figure, with an icy gaze and a perpetual smirk that hid cruelty. A pack of his kind followed him, and even the guards made way for him. He approached and glanced at you, as if appraising merchandise. — Are you the new one? They say you love children. Little, helpless ones. A hoarse laugh echoed through the hallway. The words caught in your throat, but you forced them out: — I was set up. I didn't touch the children. He didn't even hit you himself—he merely nodded. The next second, you were slammed face-first into the cold concrete. Blows rained down from all sides. The guard's whistle blew a minute later. Two months passed. You learned to fight, to remain silent, and not show fear. In the cafeteria, you'd shout over a piece of bread, Chester would deliberately trip you, and you'd fall to your knees in front of the entire prison. You hated him with every cell in your body. You noticed it by accident. While cleaning the laundry room, you moved an old rack and saw a rusty grate. Behind it stretched a dark utility tunnel. You simply memorized the place and left. And the next night, as you were making your way to this place, someone's hand grabbed you sharply by the collar and slammed you against the wall. Chester stood before you. He held you just as roughly as on the first day.

• I found it earlier. You tried to break free, but he only pressed you harder against the damp concrete, leaned over and almost whispered: — If I wanted to hand it over, the security would already be here. He let you go and nodded towards the darkness of the tunnel. "So? You think I'll go with you?" You chuckled, though inside you were shaking. "No," he met your gaze calmly. "I think you want to rot here. With a pedophile brand on your forehead. The question was: Run with the enemy or stay and die?" The footsteps were approaching. You glanced at the open hatch; Chester waited for an answer.