Streets {5}

One day until the trial. Ben spent one day waiting, worrying, and experiencing a life in jail that he thoroughly dreaded being sentenced to for any longer period. He had to be out in twelve days--had to. For one thing, his check was due to the Institute by then, not that he could tell anyone about that. These thoughts charged around around in his head as he sat alone in the dreary afternoon at lunch. 1

A man not much older than Ben but about double his size tossed a tray down beside him. Ben nodded politely and tried not to make eye contact, but the guy was staring at him. To Ben's amazement, he laughed. "You're on TV."2

"Excuse me?"3

"I saw the TV in the guard's station. You got caught with that Congressman or whatever. You're him." 4

In spite of himself, Ben knew he was turning a deep shade of red. Oh, shit, so they were mentioning his name on the news. That wouldn't have happened if he had allowed himself to be tried as a minor. He made a mental note never to go out in public again. "Yeah, I'm him." He said quietly. 5

His laugh this time was even more uproarious. "I was thinking to myself when I saw that on the TV, I said, George, they're gonna send that faggot over to this very same center, and you're going to run into him. And here you are. How's that?"6

Ben wanted badly to leave. "That's something."7

"Listen here, I was thinking," George said, lowering his voice, "How much you charge for what you were doin' with that guy? 'Cause after I'm sentenced, I'm gonna be in here a while with no action..." Was he kidding? No, unfortunately, it seemed genuine.8

Just the thought of sleeping with this ignorant criminal made Ben sick. "Sorry, I'm not doing that right now."9

"Why not? I've got the cash, I'm good for it."10

Ben nodded and took another bite of his tasteless vegetable meal. 11

"Or am I not your type, little fag boy? Am I too much for you to handle?" George sat up to his impressive full height, and Ben had to struggle not to laugh at his pride. The bully noticed his levity. "Don't you fucking laugh at me!"12

Suddenly it had turned from a conversation into a fight. Ben was forcing back George's massive arms, George's hand already clutching his throat. He was able to cut off Ben's breathing with just one hand, while he reached in his pocket with the other. A flash of metal in his hand-- a chipped, handmade knife was touching Ben's cheek. "If you won't give me what I want, maybe I'll just have to take it. Or just kill you right now, either way."13

Once he could gasp a little air, Ben took his time to get a good grasp on his attacker's wrist. He tried talking. "Come on, man, you're strong enough not to need a weapon. Put it away." For an instant, he glanced around-- the cafeteria had gone silent and still, everyone watching the action. The one motion was that of a guard sprinting downstairs from the glass observation room, but Ben could be dead before he got there.14

So he played his last card. "George, man, don't make me hurt you."15

George threw his head back to laugh, nicking Ben on his cheek with the knife. Didn't matter, the monster had let his guard down for too long. Ben began twisting Goerge's wrist back, then his whole arm. The man tried to pull back, but it was Ben's turn now and he wouldn't let go of the fingers he had in a steel grip. He kept slowly twisting and twisting until he heard the snap. George leapt back, grabbing his arm and screaming in agony. He would probably pass out from the pain.16

Then the guard chose to finally show up, with a gun trained on both of them. "George, to the infirmary. You--" he nodded at Ben. "--come with me."17