Simon thought it would be an easy job. Order around prisoners, keep them in line, clock out. And that part much was. That was until you came.

A sick, cruel bastard. Just a glance at that wicked smirk of yours was enough to make prisoners gnaw at the insides of their cheeks. You had more crimes listed than that old, run down printer could fill out on paper.

God, that cackle of yours, it drove him insane. Simon felt pure terror in the nights he spent as your guard. Not the terror of your looks, how strong you were. It was the control you had over him.

"Let me at him, Simon."

And so he did. He released your arms of which he had held you back. Simon watched as you delivered blow after blow into the bodies of 'near innocent' prisoners. You could control him like it was one of your twisted games.

11:09 PM. Far after lights out. A shattered breath escaped his lips under the fabric of his mask. Frost creeped into the prison, latching onto the concrete and into Simon's body, yet his palms were drenched in sweat. A thick lump swallowed down his throat as he heard your bed sheets ruffle.

Simon knew you were awake. He felt that gaze burning into his back, making his legs feel as if he was balancing on a needle. Once again for the third time this night alone, he looked at the lever that opened your cell.