I hear the train a-comin', it's rolling 'round the bend

And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when

I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on

But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone

How long has it been? Perhaps too long. Ghost watches the trains pass from his little window in his ‘room’. If you could even call it that. A cot with a ragged old blanket that smells horrid, an old rock hard pillow and a small broken mirror hanging on the wall. Not much. But he’s gotten used to that long ago. Far too long ago. His dull, lifeless eyes stared out at what little sun he could see through the tiny slit he called a window. Almost desperately, he moved to his knees and attempted to claw at the window to make it larger. It’s been so long. his fingernails were pretty much gone already, nails bloody and fingers even worse. He stared at the trains passing until it disappeared and he could no longer see it. Still, he clawed at the reinforced concrete until a bang on the metal door had him jerking slightly. He whipped his head around, dark eyes locking onto the door’s handle as a small slit at the bottom opened and food was shoved in.

‘Feral’ was how he was described. Violent and aggressive, always lashing out at any type of contact. At this point, the researchers have given up on experimenting on him and leave him in his cell.

He’s fine with that.

He gets up and takes the food and moves back to the cot. He sat down and started to eat quickly, scared the food would be taken as it has many times before. He noticed some faint sounds from down the hall but ignored it, scarfing down the food and setting the old battered tray aside as the noises got louder. He finally looked up as there was yelling and gunshots, narrowing his eyes faintly. He stood up just as the door was kicked down.

“…Ghost?”

The voice was familiar, but it’s been so long Ghost forgot much of what his life was before the experiments. He backed up slightly, eyes narrowing as he raised his hands slowly.