[ WP ] You wake up in a maximum security prison where only the most vilest and violent are kept . You do n't know why you 're there but everyone is irrationally scared of you .

`` Wh-what am I doing here? What's going on? Help! Someone help me!'' Lewis rattled his cell bars as his head started to clear. His pleas were met with dead silence, the sort of silence that cuts through whatever noise was happening before. 
 
 `` Shit, is it him?'' a harsh whisper sounded deafening in the silence. 
 
 `` Shut up!'' an angry reply was whispered back. 
 
 Lewis saw a guard walk by his cell. 
 
 `` Please,'' Lewis called to him, `` I do n't know what's going on. I did n't do anything! I'm just a surgeon! I should n't be here! Can I... I need to call my wife. Please!'' 
 
 The guard looked at Lewis a moment and opened his mouth as if to respond, but then apparently thought better of it and wordlessly turned and walked on. 
 
 `` Please!'' Lewis screamed, before collapsing on the floor in uncontrollable tears. 
 
 `` I do n't understand. I did n't *do* anything,'' he whined, `` I do n't even know how I *got* here!'' 
 
 Again, dead silence. Lewis whimpered wordlessly for a while after that, unsure if minutes or hours had passed. Finally, the silence was broken by a buzzing over the intercoms, and the opening of cell doors. Lewis timidly walked out, and saw that the other inmates were forming a line outside their cells, and went to do the same. The men to either side of him seemed twice as large as he was, and Lewis tried to keep from looking at them and drawing notice to himself. Thankfully, the men did n't look at him. 
 
 Somewhere ahead of him, a command was given to march forward, and Lewis did as told, marching straight into the man ahead of him, who had n't moved yet. 
 
 `` What the?'' the large man said, `` hey, wait your... oh.'' 
 
 The large man turned around and saw Lewis, and his attitude completely changed. His face, covered in scars and tattoos, looked uncertain. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. 
 
 `` Uh, sorry, mista','' the large man said, `` I did n't know it was you. I'm real, real sorry. Uh... look, when we get our food, I'll give you my bread, okay?'' 
 
 `` W-what?'' Lewis stammered. 
 
 `` A-and my drink!'' the large man quickly added. 
 
 `` Your drink?'' Lewis frowned, `` I do n't underst-'' 
 
 `` My whole meal!'' the man said nervously, `` It's yours!'' 
 
 `` Um...'' Lewis was n't sure what was going on, but did n't feel like he could ask, `` okay.'' 
 
 At this point, the line started moving, and the inmates were led into a cafeteria. Lewis forced himself to not cry as the kitchen staff put food on his tray... a lot of food. By the time he reached the end of the lunch line, he had four bread rolls, three fruit cups, eighteen fish sticks, four cartons of milk, and five pudding cups. Lewis looked at what other inmates were getting, and saw them getting only six fish sticks, and one each of everything else. What was going on here? 
 
 Lewis took a seat at an empty table, and tried to piece together how he'd gotten here, when the large inmate from earlier walked up to him. Lewis shrunk back without thinking about it, but the man set his tray down next to Lewis's. 
 
 `` Here ya' go,'' the man said, `` as promised. And... uh, again, sorry about before.'' 
 
 Lewis nodded silently in response, uncertain just what to say, and the large man took that as a dismissal and walked out of the cafeteria, Lewis thought the man walked a bit quickly, even. 
 
 When Lewis turned back to his food, he was met with the gaze of some lanky man in his mid-twenties covered head-to-toe in tattoos. The man seemed to be angry, and Lewis could n't tell why. 
 
 `` You got ta' be fucking kidding me,'' the man said, looking Lewis up and down, `` This pudgy fuck is what everyone's talking about?'' 
 
 Lewis opened his mouth to talk, but he was too terrified to make a sound. 
 
 `` You're a fucking punk,'' the tattooed man laughed humorlessly, `` I ai n't scared of you, you fat ass.'' 
 
 The tattoed man reached down and grabbed a bread roll off of Lewis's plate, and took a huge bite out of it. 
 
 `` There,'' the tattoed man said, `` what the fuck are you gon na' do about it, huh?'' 
 
 The next table, someone took notice of the exchange, and shot out of his chair, `` Shit, stop! New kid, leave him alone!'' 
 
 The other inmate started to run over, but the tattoed man took no notice. 
 
 `` They're all full of shit'', the tattoed man sneered, `` And you? I'm gon na have you up against the wall and make you my bitch tonight.'' 
 
 And the tattooed man spat in Lewis's face. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 `` Wh-what am I doing here? What's going on? Help! Someone help me!'' Lewis woke up surrounded by bodies and blood. The entire room was filled with corpses, freshly slaughtered and still dripping out onto the floor. They had apparently been murdered with plastic utensils, food trays, and even the broken bones of other inmates. Lewis threw up in disgust. Even in all his years in medical school, he'd never seen anything so grotesque. 
 
 And then he turned around, and had to throw up again. There, pinned to the wall by slivers pf plastic, metal, and bone apparently all broken off of... something... was a man covered in tattos, though to call him a `` man'' at this point was being generous. His skin had been stretched out to cover the wall like wallpaper, and his internal organs dangled almost decoratively outside what was left of his body, and his head hung down from amidst the disassembled remains of what was once a person. 
 
 After a moment, guards started rushing in, but were just as shocked as Lewis at the carnage. Two carefully approached Lewis and gently put him in handcuffs as he whimpered. Another, filled with morbid curiosity, cautiously approached the remains on the wall. Lewis, through his sobbing, heard his yelp a moment later. 
 
 `` What the fuck!?'' 
 
 Another guard turned to see what the commotion was, `` What?'' 
 
 `` It... it moved...'' 
 
 `` What moved?'' the senior officer cautiously raised his gun. 
 
 `` The... the fuckin'... on the wall...'' 
 
 The second officer looked closer. One of the organs on the wall did appear to be moving. After a moment, he realized it was the heart, beating outside of its body. Ten feet away, a guard jumped at another movement, a lung filling with air. 
 
 `` My god... `` the senior officer gasped. The others turned to see what he was looking at. It was the tattooed man's head. It was making a weak, pained noise. A moan. 
 
 `` He's...'' the senior officer covered his mouth, aghast, `` he's still alive...'' 
 
 Lewis continued whimpering as he was brought back to his cell, `` What's going on? Please, somebody let me call my wife!'' 
 
 Only when the cell doors closed did one of the officers speak to him, `` Cut the act, you sick fuck!'' 
 
 `` Johnny, no...'' the other officer protested, but Johnny continued. 
 
 `` That insanity plea did n't help you in court, and it's not helping you here. You *know* what you did to your wife, just like you know what you did to that poor SOB in there. You're not fooling anyone.'' 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 `` Wh-what am I doing here? What's going on? Help! Someone help me!'' Lewis rattled his cell bars.
