Chapter 1339: Chapter 1338: It’s All Fucking Over
Bang...
Kesai spun in the air and flew into the school gate; he was actually quite lucky.
If he had been standing against the wall, perhaps in that instant, he would have returned to the Lord’s embrace.
He stood in the doorway, the tremendous impact of the car only knocked him flying; of course, the injuries were indeed grave, but at least he held onto a sliver of hope for survival.
"No...!"
Four or five seconds after the accident happened, Kesai’s mother, the Prison Director’s wife, realized what had occurred.
It was as if something had pulled the strings from her in an instant, and her entire being collapsed.
But quickly, in a manner that is very... indescribable, she crawled towards her son like a dog, using both hands and feet.
She couldn’t stand up anymore; crawling over was the only action she could envision doing as a mother at that moment!
The Prison Director also reacted, quickly assisting his wife, and both of them rushed towards Kesai.
The campus was in chaos; no one expected such a terrible thing would happen on such an important day in life.
People looked at Kesai, feeling somewhat fearful in their hearts.
Perhaps they were distressed, but not much; their fear wasn’t about whether Kesai would die, become disabled, or be injured.
What they feared was the vulnerability of human beings.
They were actually quite vulnerable too, just like... Kesai’s fragility, which caused them to worry about themselves.
Teachers, students, and even the principal ran over.
This is a private school, and the yearly tuition can make ordinary people dig out their eyeballs.
If Kesai really died or became disabled, investors on the school’s board would twist off the heads of the school management!
Much like the students, they were concerned not about whether Kesai could live well, but about... the school’s reputation and admissions potentially encountering troubles because of this.
However, regardless of the purpose, people’s wishes at this moment were good, hoping Kesai would be okay.
Kesai lay on the ground, rolled over, his body occasionally twitching.
His eyes gazed at the blue sky, and the sunlight, previously glaring, was no longer so dazzling.
He felt a desire to vomit, and human instincts temporarily suppressed it through swallowing motions.
He remembered... he was signing a mailing slip; it’s postal rules for valuables, certainly needing a signature.
He wrote beautifully, with a flourish script.
It was said that some members of the Saint Harmony Association liked flourish scripts, and this style could enhance one’s image to a certain extent.
He had developed such a habit, seriously writing from the first letter until... he flew up.
Everything happened so fast!
Too fast to react!
His eyes turned weakly, he saw his father.
In his not-so-long life, the Prison Director played the role of the hero in his life; yes, to Kesai, the Prison Director was a hero!
He provided for the family, allowing him to enjoy a privileged life and receive a stricter, higher-standard education in a private school.
He never yelled or cursed loudly at him, nor did he hit him; he was very patient.
Sometimes during holidays, the father and son would travel together; they’ve fished in the middle of a lake, skied down snowy mountains.
They went swimming and diving at tourist spots and cut wood to warm themselves in deep snowy forests...
All the past flashed briefly through his mind; he wanted to express something but couldn’t.
His body felt as if it had lost control; he didn’t understand why he felt so powerless over his body, he hated it, he wanted to rid himself of this feeling!
He saw his mother again; he really wanted to lift his hand and wipe away the tears on her face, tell her everything would be okay.
He still couldn’t do it; he could only watch his mother cry in sadness.
He saw his girlfriend, so worried about him, in constant agony; they had been upset with each other over trivial matters before.
Now it seems she loves him; otherwise, she wouldn’t cry so sorrowfully and be so upset!
Teachers, classmates, the principal...
Kesai wasn’t the best in school, nor was he from the best background; just a bit above average.
He had never been surrounded by everyone like this before; he became the core of everyone’s attention, this feeling...
The desire to vomit surged again to his central nervous system, stronger this time.
He tried using swallowing to combat the urge, but this time he failed...
"Pfft..."
A mouthful of blood sprayed out, sprayed.
His swallowing action conflicted with the reverse flow of his stomach, something choked into his trachea.
As something surged through his trachea, he coughed.
Instinctive coughing, uncontrollable; he couldn’t do anything, yet surprisingly still had the strength to cough!
A large spray of blood speckled out; everyone’s expressions froze...
And Kesai, with that cough, seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength.
After vomiting a few more times, he slowly closed his eyes.
So tired...
Take a break.
When we get home... remember to wake me up.
"No!" the Prison Director growled angrily, his whole body like a boiled lobster. He was trembling violently with anger and fear.
His wife had already fainted. He quickly ran towards the door, determined to kill the person who took his child away!
The out-of-control car was still at the scene, with the hood popped open, billowing smoke from inside.
The driver lay slumped over the steering wheel, his condition unknown.
At this point, nearby patrol and mounted police had arrived. Every year, the school donates a significant sum to the nearby precinct for security purposes.
Naturally, the precinct, mindful of police-community relations, had assigned many officers to patrol near the school.
The police officers wore grim expressions. When they arrived, the Prison Director had just removed the warped car door.
At that moment, an even stronger stench of alcohol wafted from the driver’s seat.
"Damn it, how much did this bastard drink?" a mounted policeman shook his head.
As mounted police, they particularly disliked drunk drivers.
They often do stupid things, like provoking the police.
Under the influence of alcohol, they seem to think they are the rulers of the world, or sometimes they’ll engage in car chases.
If it were just these things, it wouldn’t be enough to cause genuine dislike or hatred.
What truly made them intolerable was their lack of full accountability for their actions when drunk, sometimes facing very mild consequences.
It was hardly considered punishment at all.
The Prison Director grabbed the driver’s hair, yanking him from the driver’s seat, but couldn’t pull him out completely.
One leg was caught inside, and he appeared badly injured, at least with a broken right foot.
After several unsuccessful attempts, the Prison Director punched the driver in the face.
It was unclear whether the driver was unconscious or deeply intoxicated, but the punch made his nose bleed, yet he remained unresponsive.
The people around quickly restrained the Prison Director as others began clearing the scene to make way for the incoming ambulance.
Kesai, in critical condition, was taken to the ambulance.
The hospital’s medical equipment would surely be more convenient and effective than onsite intervention. Sitting in the vehicle, the Prison Director’s eyes were filled with guilt and boundless anger.
He knew who was responsible; it was those Green brothers!
He knew it well.
He had originally intended to compromise, but this time, they crossed the line!
They shouldn’t have targeted his child, shouldn’t have endangered his family!
Once the child was sent to the hospital, he would immediately return to send old Fox on his way!
Since starting his private prison business, the Prison Director had many lives on his hands.
The first time he killed was because that bastard refused to cooperate with their operations and continuously provoked the management.
If that troublemaker didn’t drop his head, the work in the prison would be difficult.
Two types of people end up in private prisons.
The first type is the wealthy and powerful who come to private prisons to enjoy themselves.
Aside from not being able to come and go freely—though if required, they could go out—aside from a slight restriction on freedom, life in private prisons is no different from staying in a villa!
The second type is heavy criminals, serving sentences of at least twenty to thirty years with limited reductions.
These people are cheap labor, no wages needed, as long as they don’t starve to death.
Exploiting the labor of these prisoners, no one would say it’s wrong.
Why can private prisons make money?
Besides the wealthy enjoying prison life, the main profit is from exploiting the labor of these prisoners.
One thousand heavy criminals, each contributing about one hundred eighty to over two hundred dollars per month to the prison’s revenue. After deducting various costs, they can contribute thirty to fifty thousand dollars monthly to the Prison Director’s bank account.
That’s just the value of one thousand people, not accounting for other income.
A private prison housing two or three thousand prisoners, plus those on holiday, can easily have a monthly income of over ten thousand dollars.
Of course, this assumes everyone is as compliant as possible.
If someone disobeys, soon everyone would be on the prison’s opposing side.
Keep in mind, these prisoners they "bought" are all heavy criminals, many likely have killed!
So, no matter what, the first priority is to subdue all the troublemakers.
When he was furiously beating a young man in his twenties with a stick, accidentally hitting his head, it was his first murder.
That young man... was just in his early twenties.
That guy... had been hanging there for a long time, his once-erect head suddenly drooped.
He hadn’t noticed, one strike on the back of his head, then blood was coming out of his nose, mouth, ears...
Killing isn’t really difficult.
He would make old Fox and his people pay the price!
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