Okay, sorry for the wait, but chapter four is finished!

 [hider=Chapter 4: Unfortunate companions]I was left speechless after what this man said. A slaughterhouse. I was not in a prison, but in a slaughterhouse. They were going to kill this man, and me too. Then I looked at Jenna. This was so much worse than just me being killed. I didn't dare to ask him if he knew what they would do to her.
"Why did you start stealing?" I asked instead.
"Because my wife, the love of my life, had fallen ill, and the disease she was diagnosed with is deadly. There is a treatment for it, but it was far too expensive for someone with a job like mine. More than anything else, I wanted my wife to get the best treatment possible, so that she had a chance to survive. So I started to earn money the only other way I could think of: stealing. 
First it were simple things that I would sell, and I got away with it for a while. Maybe nobody noticed it. 
But then the costs only got higher and my payment was cut in half, so I started to steal other things, more expensive stuff that I could sell for more. 
Despite the treatment, her situation kept on becoming worse and it was terrible to see her suffer.
Then the doctor walked into the room, waking me up. My wife had still been in a deep sleep, needing all the energy she could get, and I had been at her side all night and was exhausted. 
The doctor told me the worst news I could've heard, that she wouldn't get better and only had one month left to live. 
Not even a day later, two men in uniform came to the hospital and took us away, to this place. Now I'm here waiting to die after I have seen my own wife dying in front of me, knowing that she didn't deserve this kind of fate at all. Maybe I do deserve this a little, for all the stealing I did. Even if I had good intentions, committing a crime is never good. 
But she, my wife, she absolutely didn't deserve this. She was a good person who would never do something bad on purpose. Yet, they killed her, and for what reason? Because she was sick."
The man clearly had a hard time talking about the subject, and I felt sorry for him. To lose his wife in such a way had to be awful to him.
"And what about you? What brought you to this place?" The man asked, looking at me. I couldn't blame him for asking, even if it was no pleasant thing to talk about. After all, he just told me his story, so how could I deny it to tell him mine?
"I murdered my husband. We used to be happily married for a good amount of years already and our marriage was perfect, until he came home drunk one night. We got into a fight, and for the first time ever, he hit me. 
After that, he started to beat me more often, threatened me and made me lie about it. He wasn't the man I loved anymore. He had changed, and I feared the monster he had become, so I did nothing. That was, until he started to beat our daughter, the most important person in my whole life. Seeing him beating her made me furious and brave, enabled me to do something I should've done much earlier. I killed him so that he couldn't hurt her anymore and got rid of his body. 
After a few days, we were arrested and brought to this place." I explained, and he nodded in understanding, not saying something in reply. He wasn't judging me, and I was glad about that.
For a while, we both were silent. I supposed he tried not to think about this miserable situation as much as I did. Or at the very least, it would make perfect sense to me if that was the case.
Then he said something again.
"I just realised I have yet to introduce myself properly. My name is Jackson Rivers." He said.
"I'm Michelle Johnson." I replied, putting a pluck of black hair away from my eyes so that it wouldn't bother me.
"That's a beautiful name you have. It's a pleasure to meet you, Michelle, though it saddens me that we had to meet in such terrible, miserable circumstances." He showed me a courteous smile, but despite his best efforts, the sadness was there to be seen on his face.
I said nothing in return, but silently agreed with what he said instead. 
It was nice to see a friendly face, but how I wished we had met one another at a different point in our lives. 
This was an awful time to get to know someone.
Maybe it was stupid, too. To talk and become friends with someone, knowing that they were going to die.
But still, it felt good to have someone to talk with, someone who could relate to the situation.
Sooner or later, we were going to be led towards our deaths, the same way as they did with cows and sheep when they were brought to a butcher.
But it was nice to have some company while one had no choice but to wait for death to come and get them.[/hider]