"You need to be strong, you need to be a man young blood. If not, they will treat you like a bitch up in here," Roger said as he imparted words he termed wisdom.
Marcus just listened as, with heavy breaths and tear-stained cheeks, he attempted to snuffle the pain away. Roger, the resident social on the day, had seen him distressed and come to investigate.
Seeing Roger, a part of him felt justice was nigh. But he was just as the rest of them. The only difference, he wore a uniform and had a paycheck.
"You need to stand up for yourself and fight because no one will do it for you. Outside, the world is rough young blood. You need to know how to throw a punch because like this you will always be vulnerable."
Marcus remained curled up, legs folded while his arms locked everything into a lump of flesh and bone. He was a skinny boy with average height for his age. Where he lacked strength, he compensated with dense bone mass.
