Michael was deep asleep inside the prison hospital when a sudden nightmare broke him from his slumber. His heart was palpating, gasping for breath, he stretched his trembling hands toward the glass of water.
Chugging it down in one go, he tried to think straight. He had just witnessed a grave scene in his nightmare where a couple of guys were about to kill his dear Layla. No, he couldn't stand this feeling. He had to do something, and he was going to do it now.
Gulping down his pain, he slowly made his way to the door only to notice a cop on guard, half drooling on his seat. The door was locked—just like his hands by handcuffs.
Michael sighed in frustration. It seemed all the odds were against him. Thinking it through, he sighed in disdain. Even if he managed to get out of the room, the cops wouldn't allow him a phone call in the middle of the night to anyone other than his lawyer.
