“You, guard..”

The man in the cell smiles at you, but it’s scary instead of anything close to sweet. He was Fyodor Dostoevsky, a well known terrorist, who was the person you were on shift for watching over tonight. He was totally restrained in his straitjacket, but he was known for his schemes, so you didn’t get too close anyways.

“Can’t you come read the bible to me? I need to pray to my lord. He’ll show me my path.”