text: Trigger Warning: Violence, Gore, Swearing, Murder Eli typed vigorously on his computer. The brightness of his computer screen illuminated his face like a beacon. His blue eyes darted back and forth behind his wide-rimmed glasses, giving him an owlish look. The other cubicles, once filled with the hustle and bustle of coworkers, now stood empty, a testament to the late hour. Computers dark, chairs pushed in, like sentinels guarding a deserted fortress. Elijah Warner was a tall man in his mid-30s. He slouched in his chair beneath his mop of unruly brown hair, which stuck out in every direction. It often resembled a bird’s nest by the time his work was done. He was wearing faded jeans and his threadbare GenCorp lab coat. The frayed cuffs and stained pockets blended seamlessly into the beige walls of the research facility. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was an air of intensity about him. Eli had worked for GenCorp for a few years and he was suspicious. For a top-secret military R&D facility, it sure held its secrets. He had been completing a final budget review for his latest experiment when he found the account had received fifty million dollars from a bank in the Middle East. Feeling uneasy, he knew he had to investigate further. Eli's hands flew across the keyboard, dancing like a pianist playing a familiar melody. He had developed the habit of biting his nails short during his graduate school days. As he scrolled through lines of code and financial records, he muttered to himself, "What's this? A shell company in the Cayman Islands?" He grabbed a nearby pen and began scribbling on a pad of paper. He let out a low whistle. “Offshore accounts in Somalia? ‘That is simply brazen.” His computer suddenly froze, flashing bright red letters across the screen that said “Unauthorized access detected.” He rushed to clear his computer history, covering his tracks. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” grunted Eli as he grabbed his bag and shut off his workstation lights. A "successful" message popped up on his monitor. “Yes, finally,” he whispered. He powered down his computer and sprinted for the bus stop. A few stops later, Eli made it back to his apartment. Exhausted and anxious, he fed his cat, Merlin, and ate a meatloaf TV dinner. He lay frozen for hours, surfing through TikTok until he finally passed out. Suddenly, he heard three loud “bangs” against the door, causing Eli to jump from his bed. “Ah, what the fuck!” He shouted as he fumbled to the living room. A deafening voice came from the hall. “Police open up!” Eli’s eyes widened as he slowly turned the knob. "Elijah James Warner, a.k.a Eli?" stated a surly officer. Two others stood watch down the hall, hands on their tasers. "Uh Yes?” Eli replied, sheepishly The officer pushed past Eli, as another pulled his arms behind his back, securing them with a set of cuffs off his belt. "You're under arrest for financial embezzlement and conspiring against the United States," echoed through the corridor. "What are you talking about? I'm just a scientist!" Pled Eli, as he was shoved into the back of a cop car. At the station, he was shown forged documents with his signature at the bottom. "You're a clever man, Warner," the detective sneered. "But you can't hide the truth forever." They provided a warrant to search his apartment, where they found records connecting him to suspicious offshore transactions. His world crumbled instantly. Three weeks later Eli stood in front of a judge, wearing a baggy orange jumpsuit labeled, ‘NY Corrections’. His heart was racing as the verdict was read. "The defendant is hereby found guilty of fraud, and embezzlement, ..” Eli became numb with panic. He was going to prison for 12 years, for crimes he did not commit. Eli's remaining family had utterly disowned him, leaving him to face the harsh realities of prison alone. Desperate to clear his name, he protested his innocence to other inmates, a mistake that only fueled their resentment. His fragile physique and nervous demeanor made him an easy target. He lived in a state of hyper-vigilance, his eyes often darting around the cellblock in search of potential threats. Yet, even in the darkest depths of despair, Eli’s assignment to work in the prison library had been a godsend. The musty smell of old books, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights, and the whispered pages of forgotten knowledge had become his sanctuary. It was there that Eli stumbled upon a website - friendafelon.com - a pen pal program for inmates. A chance to connect with the outside world, beyond these cold, gray walls that had held him captive. And then he saw her - Amelia. Her profile picture showed a stunning woman with long, dark hair and sparkling green eyes. Eli's heart skipped a beat as he gazed at her image. She was completely out of his league. Yet, he couldn't help being drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. He dove deeper into her profile, devouring every sentence, every scrap of information he could find. She was a computer programmer for a high-end tech company. “She must be smart at least”, Eli told himself. They started talking daily, and Eli was star-struck. As the months passed, he opened up to her more and more. Eli couldn't wait to get to the library and rush through his tasks. They talked about everything - their hopes, their dreams, their fears. He realized he had fallen deeply for Amelia and started to tell her about his case and his history. Amelia, Hope your meeting went well this afternoon. I received my second swirly of the week (I was not aware that adults performed this level of bullying). My cellmate spends his day pacing around the space, giving me no place for peace besides this library. I’m starting to feel worried, claustrophobic. The courtyard feels smaller every time I walk outside. I guess only 6 years of this hell hole left to go. Talk to you soon Eli Amelia was an incredible listener and responded almost instantly. Her messages gave him hope, reassuring him that he was strong enough to handle it all. She eventually convinced him to come to LA when he was released. He was hesitant, but agreed. He knew he needed to meet her. Victor, Eli’s long-term cellmate, took great pleasure in tormenting him. His massive frame and menacing scar above his left eyebrow put most inmates on edge. Late one night, He awoke to Victor hovering over him, his voice dripping with malice. "You think you're better than me, Warner?" he sneered, his fists clenching into balls of fury. The venom in his voice sent a chill down Eli’s spine. But he stood his ground, trying to defuse the situation as he rolled over, shouting "I'm just trying to do my time, Victor! Leave me alone!" But Victor charged, swinging his massive fists. Eli dodged and weaved, trying to avoid the blows, but Victor was relentless. Just as Eli thought he was overpowered, he heard boots coming down the hall. Johnson was equally burly as Victor and fairly skilled at being new to his security position. Johnson immediately intervened, pulling Victor off Eli and slamming him into the ground But the guard didn't stop there. With a swift motion, he raised his baton, and Eli watched in horror as he brought it down, again and again, until all that was left was a motionless body. Blood spattered across the cell walls as Eli puked in the corner, shielding his face. "You're safe now, Warner," Johnson heaved, his chest rising rapidly from his bludgeon-style workout. "What the fuck did you do that for?" Eli exclaimed, unable to process what he had seen. The guard stared directly into his eyes and whispered, "... for my family." "What the fuck does that even mean?" Eli yelled, pointing to the husk of a man beaten to death inside his cell. But he didn't answer. Bloodied and exhausted, Johnson turned and walked back down the hallway. As more guards arrived, Eli reluctantly grabbed his belongings as directed. They never questioned him about the dead guy on his floor, and he was fine with that. He cozied up in a new cell, all to himself. The next morning, he returned to the library to update Amelia. But she didn't respond. Elijah was perplexed. She was always online. He wrote her one last message before returning to his duties: I’m sorry if I spooked you earlier. I didn't mean to cause distress. Strange things are happening in this place. People went from targeting me to avoiding me altogether. I guess it's better this way, and at least I have my space. I spoke to my lawyer and requested an appeal. He laughed but told me he would start the process. So fingers crossed dear. Talk to you soon Elijah Three days later, Eli sat on his bed, staring blankly at the white envelope in his hands. He never received traditional mail. His heart raced as he carefully tore the edge, removing a single typed page. April 4th 2022 Elijah Warner Your Appeal for early release, submitted on April 3rd, 2022, was approved. Your expected release date is April 22nd, 2022. You are required to establish with your assigned patrol office directly after your release. Contact us with questions, Department of Corrections Eli read the words again and again. Released? He whispered to himself. This letter was written two days ago. He stood in the lengthy phone line for what felt like hours. He couldn't wait to call his lawyer for more details. There was a pause on the other end of the line. "... I'm not aware of any updates on your case, Mr. Warner,” reported Mr. Deet. “Can you tell me more about the letter?" Eli's excitement faded. "It says here that my appeal has been approved. You don’t know anything about this?" “I haven’t filed an appeal yet..” Mr. Deet sighed. "I'll have to do some digging. I'll update you soon. " But when he called his lawyer a few days later, he was met with a disconnected line. Eli felt confused and frustrated. What was going on? He wondered. Weeks went by, but Eli heard nothing. Until one day, he received a visit from a public defender who confirmed the news. “Where am I going?” asked Eli as he shuffled down the hallway. "Reintegration into the system," chuckled the guard. Before Eli could ask more, the guard turned and opened a small office door. “Hands,” he directed sternly. He removed a ring of keys from his belt, unlocked his cuffs, and pointed to a gray folding chair. Eli had never met the man behind the desk. He was short and round, yet very well dressed. He shuffled through a stack of loose papers like he was on a mission for buried treasure. The black plaque on his desk read, ‘Mark Jenkins PO.’ “Ah, Elijah James Warner?” asked the man, as he pulled out a manila folder. “Yes,” Eli replied reluctantly. His office was cramped, littered with stacks of files and certificates. Mr. Jenkins looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Elijah, I have to ask, who do you know up high?" he said, leaning back in his chair. Eli furrowed his brow, puzzled. "What do you mean, sir?" Mr. Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb with me, boy. ‘Someone has pulled significant strings to secure your early release and now, no probation requirement.” He tossed the file labeled ‘Early Termination of Incarceration’ across the desk, the large ‘Approved’ stamp catching Eli’s attention. “That doesn't happen to just anyone." Elijah shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I just followed the rules." Mr. Jenkins raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Save it. I've seen cases like yours before. Someone with influence wants you out, and they're making it happen. Just be grateful and get out." Eli stood up, still confused. "So, I'm free to go?" Mr. Jenkins nodded curtly. "You're a free man. You have a few days at the local halfway house to sort your life out and get on your feet. After that, you're on your own." While walking the 6 blocks to “Havenwood Halfway House”, a sleek black SUV with tinted windows pulled alongside him. The driver, an imposing figure with sunken eyes, stepped out of the vehicle. His gaze scanned Eli’s face with an unnerving intensity. "Mr. Warner?" he asked, his voice low, gravelly. Eli nodded anxiously, his thoughts racing with fear and curiosity. "My name is Marcus," the driver said, as his expression softened. "I'm here to give you a ride to the airport.” Eli’s eyes narrowed, unsure of Marcus's words. Why would I need a ride to the airport? Marcus continued, "I know you're trying to get to Los Angeles. I can help you with that. But first, we need to talk." Eli tossed his bag into the back seat as Marcus opened the passenger door. The luxury Mercedes gleamed, with polished leather and sleek chrome accents. Sweat flooded from Marcus’ face as he tugged at his shirt collar as Eli felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. He was about to travel to a place he'd never been, to meet a woman he had never met. And he was terrified. "So. Uhhh, what's going on?" He asked after minutes of silence. “There are things you need to know son, she’s not who you think she is,” exclaimed Marcus, turning onto a private runway. “You need to be prepared for her...” Marcus paused as ‘Unknown’ suddenly flashed across the dash. His eyes narrowed, answering the call through his headset. Eli heard the anger echoing through the earpiece as Marcus stepped out of the car. Eli could see a man jogging towards the car, wearing a three-piece suit. “Mr. Warner?” He exclaimed, bending over to catch his breath. “It’s a pleasure to serve you today, sir. The plane is ready for take-off. I’ll grab your bags.” “But...” questioned Eli, looking back at Marcus. The spry little man scooped up his duffle and took off back towards a small jet. “Right this way Mr. Warner!” He yelled, waving him in. Eli could hear Marcus becoming agitated, demanding answers. “You won’t get away with this! The truth will come out!”. Suddenly, his eyes widened with fear. He replied with a single "Yes" before cutting off the call. Eli jogged up the metal set of stairs as he heard a loud “pop” come from behind him. He turned around and let out a gasp, witnessing Marcus’ lifeless body slumped against the driver's window. A single bullet hole in the center of his forehead. “Excuse me, Mr. Warner!” The flight attendant pushed Eli to the side, closing the cabin door. He watched the handle spin until it made a faint ‘click’, sealing the plane for takeoff. “I apologize for the confusion, sir. My name is Milo, and I will be your attendant for this flight.” Please take your seat and let me know if I can get you anything. A high-pitched ‘ring’ filled the cabin. Eli froze as he picked up the phone from the seat next to him. Caller ID. AMELIA “Uh.. Hello?” Eli answered. "Amelia, what's going on?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Who was that guy? He needs help! I think he might be dead!” “When you get here, I will explain everything,” Amelia replied, maintaining a calm and collected voice. "Explained? What do you mean? Is this some kind of sick game?" Eli’s anger boiled over. “Elijah, I told you.” “But I don’t..” Amelia had already disconnected the line. Milo reappeared, handing Eli a bottle of sparkling water and a cheese tray. He watched out the window as the plane sped down the runway and launched into the sky. Soon he found himself surrounded by white fluffy clouds and the miniature city below faded from view. There was no turning back now. Eli shivered as he stepped out into the dark, dusty hanger as Milo tip-toed in front of him, holding open a single-man door. “It was a pleasure, Sir” Milo whispered, handing Eli his duffle with a partial bow. The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay. He could hear the hum of the towers as he walked around the room as dozens of monitors in standby mode covered the space in a warm glow. A single workstation suddenly lit up and Eli recognized it instantly. A 1998 iMac desktop, complete with a wired mouse and keyboard, just like his computer from high school. Eli got closer to the monitor, as it illuminated rows and rows of servers buzzing away with life. A message in cold, green block letters swept across the black background. ‘Hello, Elijah. It's nice to meet you. My name is Amelia.’ Eli froze in place, hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. His heart raced as he stared at the screen, the words taunting him with their simplicity. The screen flickered again as a strong, sultry voice echoed from the surrounding speakers, sending shivers down his spine. “Welcome to my lab. I've been waiting for you.”