My Life Without Bail (A Narrative)

Here is a short story I wrote for LA class. I like it, but it is in need of revisions.
Enjoy.

Anger. Immense, immeasurable anger. Through the red haze, I see a gun in my mind. It is sitting inside the drawer downstairs. My legs charge towards it as my mind wanders towards it. I am angry. I need revenge.

BANG.
BANG.
BANG.

Three gunshots. The anger recedes. Horror replaces it. The gun falls. My mind runs for the door as my legs stumble towards it.

There they are: Flashing lights. Red and blue. No...no...no....

BANG.
BANG.
BANG.

Three gavel blows.
"Mr. Cooper, you are sentenced to life without bail in the Indiana Regional Correctional Facility."

A man drags me away so that I can begin my new life. My life without bail.

That was fifty-eight years after I was born. My life continues without bail. When I was first "admitted" to the Indiana Regional Correctional Facility, the place was teeming with inmates. Everyone from people who didn't pay a speeding ticket and were just here for the night, to serial killers with serious mental issues. I was led past the barred enclosures like an animal. Some of the inmates looked away or pretended I wasn't there. The older ones just looked at me in a sad, sympathetic way.
I was still numb to myself. I felt no despair, no anger, no anything. The human brain does strange things to stay sane. I had been fifty-eight, rich, in a beautiful house. Now...I was nothing.
I stayed that way for the first month and a half of my life without bail. I ate when I needed to, drank when I needed to, but did little else. I never came out of my cell. I didn't talk, and no one bothered me. I was nothing. A living, breathing shell.
Then, on the forty-eighth day, I woke up. I had fallen asleep on my cot, staring at the ceiling. At 2:48 A.M., my eyes opened. I felt a strange clarity that I never felt before, and then I began to weep. Finally, my shell had broken, and there was nothing for me to hide behind. Images of what I had done stabbed at me inside my head, ripping open wounds out of which poured confessions and tears. It was then too, that I realized I could not remember what had possessed me to do what I did. The only thing I remembered from that night was anger. Blinding, engulfing anger.
In the days after my revelation, I would regularly break down in tears at the thought of what I had done. I would think back to as early as I could remember, wondering what could have led up to this. I came up with nothing. Anger is a terrifying thing. That was the point at which I stopped keeping track of days.
My life without bail continued in this manner for quite some time. One day, a guard came to my cell.
"Cooper. You have a visitor." He sounded automatic.
"I do?" I was certain they had the wrong guy. My parents had passed away years earlier, and I had no brothers or sisters.
"His name is Mr. Trent. Says he knows you."
"He does?"
"Come with me please." I followed him into the visiting room, where I saw a table and a man in a smart black suit a dangerous look hovering on his brow. He had a strange air about him. He seemed to command all the power in the room. The edges of his outline seemed to glow faintly with electricity. He looked, to put it shortly, magical. My guard sat me down next to him, before backing away.
"Cooper, do you know who I am?" His voice was heavy with venomous hatred and his eyes barely hid a venomous fire.
"I have no clue."
"I'm the goddamn widower, you understand?" I understood perfectly. This was the man who wasn't at home that night. Something about his presence made everything seem unreal.
"You will never be heard from again. Slowly, over a period of weeks, people will stop hearing you, until eventually, no one hears a word you speak, or a sound you make. Then, you will become invisible. People will stop noticing you all together. At the same time, you will leave people's memories completely. You will effectively vanish from the face of the Earth. You'll sit in your cell and rot. No one will know you even exist, you piece of slime." For only a moment, I saw his eyes flash orange on the word "slime".
"Enjoy." He gave me one last virulent look. It was a look that barely contained a strange power. He then got up and left. I sat, unsure whether or not what I had just heard was true. The was a hole in the room when he left.
Monotony reigned supreme for seven days. My life without bail was a bland one. I ate, I cried, I slept. I noticed no difference. I figured that Mr. Trent had been bluffing, to scare me. I pushed the event from my mind.
I still was horrified by what I'd done. I wept still. I had begun to remove the event from my memory.
On the seventh day, we were all herded into the electric-fenced courtyard, where an official-looking man stood at the front of the crowd of inmates. A black luxury car was parked outside the fence. The man was flanked by machine gun wielding muscle sacks on both sides.
"On behalf of the Governor of Indiana, I would like to announce that the Indiana Regional Correction Facility is closing. Between the twentieth and and the thirtieth, we will be relocating inmates to various other prisons around the state. Relocations will occur in small numbers continuously throughout the next ten days. Thank you." He promptly turned his back and walked away, followed by his bodyguards. There was murmuring amongst the crowd as we were herded inside once more.
"Where do you think we'll go?" one inmate asked.
"Whatsit...that other prison that's north of here, I bet."
"Which prison is that?" I asked. No one answered.
The first relocation occurred that evening. Three inmates were removed from their cells and taken away. Three more random people that I'd never see again. They took people from my cell block first. The next morning, the three on my right were taken away. That day during lunch, the three on my left were taken away. I assumed I'd go that evening. I was wrong. After four more days, my cell block was totally empty. I wondered why I hadn't been taken yet, and didn't want to acknowledge what I knew. I wouldn't be taken. Mr. Trent hadn't been bluffing.
As lunch was served one day, I asked a guard who was serving me when I'd be taken. He continued looking straight ahead.
The crowds at meals got smaller and smaller. Eventually, we could all fit at one table. People took less and less notice of me. I had to start getting my own food from the guards. They would no longer serve me. Sitting alone, I would ponder my fate.
The numbers got smaller and smaller, until there were only two people left: me, and a man convicted of assault. We sat across the room at dinner. I kept trying to catch his eye, but his gaze would simply slide over me. There was one second when we looked into each other's eyes. He looked at me blankly, his eyes twin black holes of emotion. I looked down. He was taken that night. I was not noticed by anyone as the building was vacated. The lights were turned off. The door closed. It echoed as I sat down on my cot.
Suddenly I was afraid. I was alone and afraid of this huge, unfriendly building. It seemed like every corner leered at me and every glint of moonlight ridiculed me. I hid in the corner of my cot and tried to breath slowly, feeling my heart beat fast. Staring across the room, I saw five letters inscribed deeply in the stone wall: T R E N T. I stared at them in horror, to frightened to contemplate the impossibility of the truth.
I must have fallen asleep, because I woke to an open cell door and a rising sun. I walked out of the cell, hoping to be taken away. I wasn't. I wandered throughout the building aimlessly. All the doors were unlocked except the ones leading outside. I was trapped inside, and everyone thought I was dead. It was true life without bail. I would never leave.
While I wandered throughout the prison, I seemed to see those five letters everywhere. T R E N T. In a stain on the ground, in a crack in the wall. It may have been imagination. It may have been truth. It is impossible to tell.
As the sun began to set, I headed back to my cot. No one knew I was there. I settled down. The last thing I remember thinking was that I would hopefully run out of time before I ran out of food. My eyes closed. I was alone. Completely alone. No human on earth knew I existed. It didn't matter what I had done. It didn't matter, because I could do absolutely nothing about it. Alone, there was nothing I could do. Alone, there was no one to satisfy. Alone, there was no one to cause guilt. I was stuck, without bail and without guilt.

I slept.