Welcome to Hell
Chapter 112
Dante Castelli.
I woke up feeling lighter.
The pain from yesterday seemed to have faded, and the chaos that had been pounding in my head now felt like distant echoes. I sat up on the narrow bed, the thin mattress sinking under my weight, and cracked my joints with a slight roll of my shoulders and neck.
A sigh slipped from my lips as I stretched. No dreams, no memories, just a complete blackout. Strangely, that’s what left me feeling most refreshed.
I stood up slowly, letting my muscles stretch little by little. I noticed the cell door was open and stepped
out into the corridor, feeling the air lighter around me.
As I passed the area where uniforms and towels hung, I grabbed a clean set and kept walking toward the communal bathroom.
This time, it was completely empty.
No curious eyes, no whispers.
On one of the benches, I found a toothbrush and a still–sealed bar of soap. I grabbed both without a second thought and headed to one of the showers. Stripping off the dirty uniform, I tossed it into a corner.
I turned on the faucet and let the water cascade over my body.
The sensation was immediate. The hot water eased the tension still lingering in my muscles, washing away
the weight that had crushed me yesterday.
I stayed longer than usual.
I washed every part of myself with slow, deliberate care, like I was scrubbing away every layer of pain stuck to my skin. Then I brushed my teeth at the same pace, and after a while, I finally turned off the shower.
I dried off slowly, letting the towel soak up the last drops. I ran the fabric through my hair and, for the second time, decided to leave it down./
The feeling of lightness pleased me.
Now dressed, much cleaner, and more put together, I left the bathroom intending to head to the cafeteria.
But I barely took two steps before a body collided with mine.
“What the fuck…” I started to complain, frowning.
Before I could finish, Fox was standing in front of me, eyes wide and filled with urgency.
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“Elijah… He’s not doing well. He’s sick. In his cell.”
The world froze for a second.
I felt my heart skip a beat.
“What?”
It was the only thing I managed to say before I bolted.
I ran.
I ran like I was fleeing death.
It was like each step was a prayer that he’d be okay.
The inmates stepped aside when they saw me, making room like they could feel the desperation pouring off me.
Adrenaline burned through my veins, my thoughts scrambled, and the only thing echoing in my mind was his image… my bunny… suffering, alone.
The guilt consumed me.
I should’ve gone back sooner.
I should’ve talked to him.
I should’ve…
I reached the wing, my breath faltering, my uniform sticking to my sweat–soaked skin.
I rushed to his cell and entered in a panic, my eyes scanning the space, searching for him on the bed.
“Elijah?” I called, breathless.
He wasn’t there.
Suddenly, I heard the metallic clank of the bars closing.
I spun around quickly.
And there he was.
Standing there, eyes steady on me, his face calmer than I expected.
He was fine.
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Alive.
Whole.
“Let’s talk, Dante.”
I froze, trying to process.
Relief came first.
Then… surprise.
And finally, the realization: I’d been tricked.
But at the same time, a weight lifted off my shoulders.
I took a deep breath and pushed the damp strands of hair out of my face.
My heart was still racing, driven by adrenaline and the fear that something worse had happened to him.
I looked at Elijah, who wore a nervous expression, and walked over to the bed, sitting without taking my eyes off him.
“I’m going to tell you everything. Listen carefully. This is my story, Elijah.”
He stayed silent, nodding, fully attentive.
“When I was ten, my parents were already knee–deep in crime. I grew up surrounded by guns, drugs, and dirty money like it was normal. And living in that environment, I learned fast. By fifteen, I was selling drugs on the streets, running my own small schemes. By eighteen, I joined a gang. And at twenty, I got recruited by a mafia.”
I paused, feeling the weight of the words before they even left my mouth.
“I learned even more there. I perfected everything: killing, stealing, threatening, and manipulating. I abused people. I did things you couldn’t even imagine… things I’m ashamed to remember.”
I saw the discomfort in his eyes, but I continued.
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