Not Yet [Maddie]

[Logan Andrews]

Logan was in a pretty bad mood today. As per usual. He'd been in a bad mood for about five or six months. He thought it was that long since he'd been put in here at least. It felt that long. It felt longer.
He paced tersely around his cell, once again falling into the several nervous mannerisms he'd picked up.
About three months into his sentence, that had been when the walls had first started to close in on him. He'd wake up in the middle of the night, breathing hard and having to bite his tongue to stop from yelling like the rest of them, he'd have to walk around until he could breathe again. Not very long after that, simply walking to clear it wouldn't do anymore, he'd have to rest his hands against the walls, push on them slightly until they gave way and stopped trying to press in on him.

Then there was the other and considerably worse one. He'd got into the habit of pushing at the bars idly as well, but the only reason he ever approached the bars was when he had a visitor that he wanted to see. The only visitor he ever wanted to see was Arden.
So he would push at those infuriating bars without realising he was doing it, he would show the very nervous and vulnerable side that had emerged in him...when she was here.
He replayed it again in his head, that comment that caused him so much pain, "You know I'd break you out of here if I could?"
He had known, somehow, even if it'd taken him by surprise when she'd first said it. If by some stupid turn of events, it was her in his position, he'd want to do the same thing. He'd still pretty much do anything for her, which was bleak, as they weren't even friends anymore. Not properly.

That wasn't what bothered him most at the moment though, he reflected as he pressed his palms lightly to the cool stone of the wall at one side of his cell, pushing and flexing the rapidly wasting muscles in his arms until he jarred the tendons all the way up from pushing too hard.
He murmured an incoherent profanity under his breath as he dropped his arms again, trying to shake them loose before they seized up properly and caused him pain later on.
What bothered him at the moment was his new next door neighbour. It was a shame, as he'd expected the cell next to him might belong to Liam or Christopher, although it was an interesting turn of events to find Madeline there instead.
Very interesting.

She'd crack before he did, which might keep him amused by something at least.
He'd been in here longer, but he was more adept at tricking himself. He could hold out for weeks still before he cracked, he was pretty sure.
"What do you see Logan? What do you feel?" Liam had been livid when he asked, as Logan had been goading him for a good half hour before he spat it at him. He was, of course, referring to what effect the dementors had on him.
That was private, that was for Logan's head and Logan's head alone. No one else need know all the pain he felt when the dementors went past.
It'd been fine to start with, as he kept all his negativity locked away in his head so it didn't bother him. No one could live his lifestyle hampered by emotions, so his had all been locked away. Gradually, they'd started to seep back in.
He'd been struck by things he hadn't felt in years. He missed his brothers. God, he missed them really bad. He wished he could speak to them one last time and take back all the horrible things he'd said, wished he could take back all the awful things he'd done to them. His parents hadn't deserved what he'd done to them. His friends...from that brief time he'd had friends. He felt remorse for what he'd done to them, he felt their pain. He felt the pain of everything he'd ever done, it all seeped out to attack him. He wished he'd treated his son better. If he could go back to Finley's birth, he would treat him better. He'd learn how to be a better father, and he wouldn't get frustrated by the fact that he couldn't, and then no one would get hurt. Then it'd be alright.
Soon, he would crack. Soon, what was holding back everything else and the full extent of feeling what he'd done would break, and he would be flooded by it all, and then he would go mad.
But not yet.

He was thinking too much, too hard, so he headed over to the bars and threaded his arms through them to lean forward. Pressing his cheek against the cold iron, he turned his head slightly to address the occupied cell on his right.
"Oi, Madeline," He muttered.
He was going to go mad sooner if he didn't talk to anyone, and he'd rather take talking to her than going mad.
When he received no reply, he repeated it louder, "Oi, Madeline. You still alive in there?"

[Madeline Speare]

Three days. I've been in here only three days and it already feels like forever.
Sobbing softly, I wrap my arms around myself, burying my head into my knees. It's been three days and I haven't moved from my spot. Huddled in the corner like a caged animal. That's what I've been reduced to. A caged animal.

This place is starting to get to me. I'm in here for life.
I'm going to die in here aren't I? My voice is clear, shaken, tearful. Ian came yesterday. A part of me was happy that he came, but he's risking his own neck as well. If I'm on file, what's to say he's not? And Nathan, he's at risk too. I'm not about to put my family through the things I'm suffering now. The fact Ian came though, I think that's what shook me the most, I know how much he hates this place. He's never admitted it, but I just know.

Throwing myself against the bars, I don't even bother to fight back the tears. "I want out, God Ian, get me out of here."
He slips his hands past the bar, taking hold of mine."I'm getting you out, I swear Maddie. Your not gonna be here long."
"I shouldn't be here at all!" My voice is hysterical and it echoes in these lonely corridors. "I'm going to die here, aren't I?

It's taunting me, my own voice, my own memories, they're taunting me. I blame the dementors. They're everywhere, and they're always hovering around the cells. Every bad feeling, every bad memory danced around in my head. There was no escape. It was easy to say that every night I would wake up screaming at the top of my lungs, and that was quickly followed by heart wrenching sobs that would last until I tired myself out.

I don't even have to look up to know who's talking to me. Logan. It's bad enough that I'm stuck here, but the fact my cell is next to Logan's is just plain unbearable.
Oh the irony.

[Logan Andrews]

Logan rolled his eyes.
He'd briefly thought for a moment that she actually was dead, and for a brief moment he'd been flooded with something like panic. He didn't care if she died or not, of course, it was just that if she did...then his entertainment would be dramatically cut short.
To be taunted with the promise of some vague form of amusement in this place, only to have her die a few days in...well, that would be disappointing.
Or at least, that's what he assumed was his thought process. He wasn't entirely sure about anything anymore.

Yesterday, he'd watched Christopher walk past his cell. Logan could have said something, he didn't look like it'd take much to jsut destroy him mentally in this place, and when he was in that state.
But it was something like pity that prevented him from even bothering.
It was either pity or that he really was starting to melt into the floor. Except, he'd ruined that by getting up now.

It wouldn't be all that much longer that he could get up. His brief and sparse visits...the only visits he counted as visits were ones that he looked forward to...weren't coming often enough to sustain him anymore.
He was starting to succumb to the insanity, which was why he was starving himself. He'd die on his own terms, when he was still sane enough to make the decision.

"Madeline," He called again, this time in an infuriating cheerful tone to try and gage a reaction.
He'd tested it on her cells previous occupant a few times, and it'd definitely returned good results. It seemed prisoners didn't take too kindly to it. Neither did Liam really, which was an added bonus.

[Madeline Speare]

"What Logan? What?" I snap, lifting my head up and turning to look in his general direction, not caring that my face is tear stained. Not like he can see me anyways.

This place is worse then hell, even if many see it as hell. I'd much rather be dead then here. I want my family. I want go get out of here. It's safe to say that I'll be in a bad mood for a pretty long time in I stay here.
Then your going to be in a bad mood for a lifetime.
Life, I'm in here for life.
I can't repress the shudder that overcomes me, or the sudden amount of tears threatening to fall from my eyes.