Another night. Another prison door slammed shut in Jude’s face. He clenched the bars, taking in the long, dimly lit passage lined with cells as the snapping of footsteps echoed in the distance. He chuckled to himself before laying on the thin, stained mattress; at least he had one this time. Getting himself comfy, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He liked this; alone, peaceful with time to think. He loved the irony that his cell and incarceration (however temporary) facilitated his hunger, his passion, his drive. A drive he couldn’t ignore.
There she was.
Trembling, like a baby deer.
Her pale blue eyes widened as his hand found her throat, pressing his thumb down hard. Shock etched her face as she realised her fate. With the instinct to survive, she fought, pushing at him, flailing her arms, her hands, trying to claw his face, trying to remember all the self defence training. That only heightened his pleasure as her final breath rasped in her throat . . .
“Hey, just so you know,” he shouted, “I’m having the time of my life here. These iron bars can’t hold my soul. And very soon they won’t be holding me either. I have the best lawyer.” Footsteps marched towards him and the jangling of keys made Jude grin as he pulled himself up. “Told you I have the best lawyer.”
“Your lawyer doesn’t know you’re here.No one knows you’re here, I’m afraid. This is a place you can’t get to . . . or get out of,” said the calm, cold voice of the guard. He was tall, extremely thin, almost skeletal. With sunken eyes, he stared at Jude, his thin lips almost a smile.
“I know my rights. I get a phone call and I get to meet my lawyer and I get fed. I’m starving!”
“Yes . . . in a normal prison. But, unfortunately for you, this is not one of those. Sentence has been passed. Your fate is sealed.” As he spoke he stepped closer to Jude.
“You can’t touch me!” Jude mustered.
“Unfortunately for you, yes I can. Your fate cannot be changed. You were right on one count though, these bars can’t hold your soul. But I can.” He reached out his long, bony arm, pressing his hand against Jude’s chest. “We can’t let your soul remain any longer. Unfortunately for you that means ripping out your heart.”
His fingers with long, sharp nails dug beyond the fabric, into the skin, deeper and deeper. “You see, it’s all very well preventing you from repeating your evil, but we can’t stop you thinking about it. And that just urges you on.” Despite the screams, the guard’s voice remained calm as his hand twisted, buried up to his wrist. With a sudden jerk, his hand was free, clasping the still beating organ in his blood soaked hand.