Chapter 2: The Name On The Wall
Solitary confinement was designed to make time feel impossible.
No windows.
No conversations.
No way to know if it was morning or night.
Just four walls and your own thoughts.
The first night, I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the concrete floor.
I wasn't thinking about Tank.
I wasn't thinking about the fight.
I was thinking about the name.
My name.
COLE.
Carved behind his table.
That wasn't a coincidence.
I had spent my entire adult life believing my past was buried.
Apparently, someone inside Stateville knew more about me than I did.
The slot in the door opened.
A tray slid inside.
I didn't touch it.
A voice came from the hallway.
"Still refusing prison food?""
I looked up.
A guard stood outside.
Older man.
Gray hair.
Tired eyes.
His name tag said:
MARTINEZ.
"I didn't ask for anything.""
He leaned against the bars.
"Nobody asks for anything in here.""
I watched him carefully.
"Why are you here?""
He looked down the hallway.
Then lowered his voice.
"Because I remember your father.""
My chest tightened.
I stood.
"What did you say?""
Martinez looked uncomfortable.
"I shouldn't have said that.""
I stepped closer.
"My father?""
He shook his head.
"Forget it.""
"No.""
My voice sharpened.
"You don't get to say something like that and walk away.""
The guard stared at me.
For a moment, I saw something in his face.
Regret.
"Your father wasn't the man people said he was.""
I didn't answer.
My father had died when I was nineteen.
At least, that's what I was told.
A car accident.
A closed case.
A painful memory.
But there was always something strange about it.
Too many unanswered questions.
Too many people refusing to talk.
Martinez looked toward the cameras.
Then back at me.
"Tank knows.""
"Knows what?""
Before he could answer, footsteps approached.
Another guard appeared.
Martinez immediately stepped back.
"Lights out.""
The moment disappeared.
The door closed.
I stood there confused.
That night, I barely slept.
At 3:17 in the morning, someone knocked on my cell door.
Three slow knocks.
I sat up.
Nobody knocked in prison.
They kicked.
They shouted.
They demanded.
Three knocks meant something.
I walked toward the door.
"Who is it?""
Silence.
Then a voice.
"Ethan Cole.""
I froze.
Nobody called me by my first name inside Stateville.
The voice continued.
"You need to hear the truth before they find you.""
My hand tightened.
"Who are you?""
A pause.
Then:
"The man who watched your father die.""
My heart stopped.
The footsteps moved away.
I rushed to the door.
"Wait!""
Nothing.
Only silence.
But before the person disappeared completely, something slid underneath my door.
A folded piece of paper.
I picked it up.
There was only one sentence written on it.
A sentence that changed everything.
"Your father wasn't killed by accident. He was killed because of what he discovered inside Stateville.""
I stared at the words.
Then I flipped the paper over.
On the back was a prison identification number.
And I recognized it.
May you like
Because it belonged to the one person I thought was dead.
Tank.
