Read Online American Criminal by Shawn William Davis - Free Book Online

bring me nothing but more trouble.
        Burnside forced himself to sit back down on the narrow bunk. He looked around the bare cell, frantically, searching for something to occupy his attention to distract him from the rage. The only object that promised any stimulation was the book he already read.
        There is only one choice then.
        Burnside picked up the book and began reading it again from the beginning. This time, he would concentrate on each individual word and its assorted synonyms in addition to the general storyline. Time went by. He just didn't know how much.
        Burnside awoke from another nap to find a cold meal sitting on a tray on the floor.  
        Great, my Four Seasons gourmet cuisine has arrived.
        The food looked disgusting; it was some kind of grayish-brown meat patty and something creamy that may have been mashed potatoes. It didn't matter. He knew he had to keep up his strength. He broke out his precious book and concentrated on the individual words in King's story, while he shoved down mouthfuls of the nasty food without tasting too much of it. When he was done eating, he was glad he did - despite the bad taste - because he felt energized for another round of reading.
        After an interminable amount of time, he finished the book for a second time. He was exhausted. Burnside fell asleep and tried to dream about the book as if it was a movie. He was successful and awoke refreshed and energized.
        But energized to do what?
        Ray still hadn't met any living person or seen anything other than the interior of the cell for what he guessed must have been at least twelve hours.
        Maybe more.
        He began pacing again.
        Finally, after an endless amount of pacing, he encountered his first human being since he was brought back from court. Unfortunately, the human being was just a guard bringing him another tray of airline replica food.
        "How ya doing?" he said to the guard in a friendly manner - desperate for conversation.
         The guard glared at him, contemptuously, in response and shoved the tray under the bottom bars. Burnside didn’t remember the guard specifically, but he figured he must have done something to piss him off in the past few days. It was impossible to describe the disappointment he felt when the guard turned and walked away. He was so lonely at this point, he thought he would even enjoy a conversation with this particular asshole. He seized his book with his left hand and grabbed up the tray with his right. He began reading again, while he absently shoved down mouthfuls. The dinner tasted better than the last one, probably because it was still hot. He couldn't believe he was actually enjoying the taste of the meat patty and mystery vegetable. There was just a hint of spice in the meat, which reminded him of the Salisbury steak they used to serve in his high school cafeteria. This small detail was enough to bring some pleasure with it.
        After eating, he tried to concentrate on his second reading of the book. It was a great book, but it was getting a little old at this point. His concentration kept wavering to the events of the past few days. The worry, the fights. Worrying and fighting. That's what his life was becoming. An endless cycle of this mundane phenomenon. He tried to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning, dreaming horrible nightmares. He dreamed he spent twenty years in prison and wasted away into a bitter, vacant-minded old man. He awoke with a start. He couldn't believe he was actually glad to see the group of guards standing outside his cell. They must have just arrived.
        "Get up," the lead guard commanded.
        “Sure," Burnside replied, standing unsteadily to his feet.
        The lack of exercise and stimulation during the past few days made him feel weak and tired.
        "Turn around and put your hands behind your back," another guard said.
         Burnside complied and felt cold