"Hey, smelly geezer."
"I'll kill you."
Huey vividly recalled how the conversations with his blasted teacher usually would start.
He would always give the same lazy response.
A young Huey frowned as he turned to look at the messy haired middle aged man sitting cross-legged against a mat right outside with his eyes closed, next to him.
"What are we doing?"
The teacher opened one of his eyes to vaguely glance at him from the side.
"What does it look like?"
"Nothing." Huey spat.
"Exactly."
...
Sitting alone in the dark empty silence of the gloomy cell, Huey had occasional recollections of his time spent in the past. Sometimes, the random scenes and images popped up randomly without order.
Other times, he dreamt of them, partially reliving the days of those memories while the sedatives and drugs had put him unconscious. And each time he would wake up, the real world would seem so distant, so fake, and forlorn.