He was tired of everything. He was trapped in a hellish predicament, and he was sickened ad nauseam by being abused by wardens and inmates alike. Today, he was once again thrown into a riot at the cafeteria, stumbling out with a split lip, a sprained arm, and bodily aches all over. But then again, he also managed to pickpocket one of the security guards and smuggle something into his cell, hiding it under his soiled pillow, so the pain didn’t matter anymore. Now, his prize rested patiently within his hands; bullets loaded, safety lock off, muzzle glinting mischievously. His fate was set. It was the first sound he heard, the sound that got him into this shithole, and it would be the last sound he would hear, the sound that will absolve him of all his tribulations. He shut his eyes. His fingers twitched. He pulled the trigger.