Chapter Three
Making A Tool Out Of A Situation

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A chair was placed on the ground of his cell he hadn't noticed before. He did, however, notice the gun on the hip of one of the guards.

"Evening, Simon Minter." Talia May sat in the chair as she spoke, an air of importance surrounded her that made Simon feel small even though he towered taller than her. "Take a seat." She gestured to the bed with her eyes and he sat, feeling ashamed. He couldn't place why.

"I've read your case. You have no prior situations," She dragged the word out with disgust and Simon felt a defensive strike rush through his body. He held it back, knowing arguing with Talia May probably wasn't the way to get out of his situation. "So what do you know about this boy?"

Simon was annoyed at the sneer that appeared on her face as she looked towards the cell next to his. Jide was sat on his bed, facing them, with his legs crossed. No emotion was showing on his face even when he held eye contact with Talia May. She was the first to look away, clearing her throat.

"Nothing. I heard the commotion and it looked like that group, those bullies, were going to attack him. He was unarmed and-"

"He is scum." Talia May's voice was sharp, cutting Simon off and causing him to bow his head. "You're lying."

Simon's mouth dropped open, he frantically looked at the guards, Jide, back to the prime minister.

"What do you know about the LFP?" Somehow, even though they were similar heights sat down, she was looking down her nose at him. A wisp of memory jogged the back of his brain and made the hairs on his neck stand but he couldn't place it. He knew the LFP and he didn't know how.

"The LFP?" He dared to question, playing with his own fingers.

"The Liberal Freedom Party. A bunch of activists performing criminal activity. Scarred." She spat the words. Simon couldn't help but think she was full of a lot of hatred for such a short woman. A woman in charge of a democracy.

"I don't - I've never -" Simon stuttered. All he does with his life is play football and FIFA, how could she think he would know what a Marked activist group is? He fell silent. The piercing gaze of the prime minister and the gun by the guard's side took all defiance out of him.

"Your trial is in a few days. Give us some information and you might see your family again, unmarked." She nodded her head, as if wishing him goodbye and stood, dusting herself off. She turned on her heel, one of the guards moving the chair, as she tapped out of the room. She didn't so much as look Jide's way as she passed.

Simon collapsed backwards, feeling as though he could breath again. He had just been threatened by his prime minister for helping a boy. A boy that was yet again trying to get his attention through the glass. Simon threw his middle finger up and childishly turned on his side, his back towards the reason for this whole mess.

Deep down, Simon knew he couldn't blame Jide. He had never agreed with the actions of others, or even the views. Often he would wonder if seeing his Grandma portrayed as a bad person in front of every pupil was the reason. No one knew, of course, he wouldn't dare speak a word in fear his mother would faint. She wouldn't be able to bare her friends knowing she was the daughter of a Marked.

He thought over his family. How, as he and his brothers had started growing, Pops started to visit less. He would have heated discussions with his daughter that disappeared into a tense atmosphere when one of the boys wanted their mum.

Did any of it have something to do with his grandma? Did it have something to do with the LFP? Simon shivered slightly and pulled the sheets over him. He wasn't tired but he refused to stand up to pee. Nothing would convince him to pee on camera.

It was light when his eyes opened again. He couldn't remember falling asleep or even being tired. Groaning, he sat up. He felt groggy from too much sleep was was desperate to eat or drink something. Wincing, he held his bladder as he thought about a drink. Instead of bolting to the toilet, he sat up slowly, trying not to put any pressure on his stomach.

The guard outside their door span as he sat up, facing away once again. Jide was stood the front of his cell, facing Simon with wide eyes. As Simon furrowed his eyebrows, Jide relaxed and waved.

Jide pointed into his cell and noticed the tray on the floor by his own door. Simon licked his lips as he spotted the glass of water, he was desperate for liquid. His throat was burning every time he swallowed. Sighing, he gave in. It didn't mean he wasn't defiant, he told himself as he undid the fly on his trousers, moving to his toilet. Red coloured his cheeks as he peed, feeling more exposed than he ever had before.

Eagerly, he washed his hands in the small sink built into the wall, wishing it was drinkable. The "Do Not Drink" sign was staring at him, warning him off drinking more. As he pressed the off button, his finger caught something sticking slightly out of the wall. Curiosity was going to end up hurting him but he tugged at it, feeling whatever it was release. In his hand was a folded piece of paper - small enough he could have missed it.