Toy

Abel Conway was in prison for raping and murdering a three year old girl. He himself was about forty, but no one really knew. The girl was his daughter. His wife, who was responsible for calling the police upon her monstrous husband, was a fine lady of the Lord. His son, who was considerably older than his female sibling, had already moved out.
Phillip Hayes shared the cell with him. He was a serial killer who went after blonde prostitutes. He never pleaded insane, so he ended up there. In the Louisian State Penitentiary. It's the largest maximum security prison in the United States and nicknamed "The Farm" for its large amount of land and rural location.
Abel was tall, white and American. Phillip was a medium-sized African American. The two never spoke to each other until a month after having shared the cell. It was Phillip who spoke first.
"What you did?" he asked.
Abel stared at him for a long while. He wasn't expecting any confrontation or contact any time soon. The black man looked dumb. Spoke the part too.
"What's it to you?"
"Just aksing..."
Abel hated the way he spoke; the way everything was pronounced by those...degenerates. He was a confederate to the tee and farming was his business, as it had been in his ancestry for centuries. Back then, they had niggers do all the work. It was just as well, too, Abel thought.
"What'd you do, negro?" he countered.
"Oh, I done kill fo' white girls. They was purty too."
"And you don't care? You just say what you did... like it don't matter?"
"I leave da judgin' to God. I told him I's sorry. If I burn in hell, I deserve it; but if I don't, ye God!"
"You stupid imbecile. This, here, is Hell. Being here, all cooped up with monkeys and niggers that ain't no better or smarter!"
"You don't mean dat."
"I do! I meant every word. As for what I did- that doesn't concern you."
It was silent for a few minutes.
"You don't believe in da Lord?"
"To hell with that nonsense."
"Why don't you?"
"I promise, if you see the world as it is- not just what you see around you- but everything, everyone... You see that religion ain't shit except for the root of all problems. Everyone believes in someone different. Or multiple somebodies. So what makes yours the right one? I believe in me- that's what I believe."
Phillip mulled it over. They did not exchange any more words for a few months. Abel grew accustomed to sleeping, eating, and reading throughout the silent, boring days. Phillip never mentioned his execution was coming up soon. One day, he spoke up again, hoping that it wasn't his last day.
"I'm sorry you know too much," he said.
"What?" Abel asked, perplexed.
"You see da world different'n I do. I just see my momma happy when I bring da girls over to visit. I see my wife happy. I see me happy wif my family. We ain't got much money, but it's enough. I never went to school. That's why you know too much. You went to school."
"Yeah, I did. Education can be a blessing or a curse. Most often, it's both. You're a real simple-minded fella. Perfect to play with. Mold."
"I s'pose so, mistuh."
"If there is a God," Abel continued, knowing that it was where Phillip was heading, "then we're just his toys. He let's some of us be smart; others dumb. In the end, we're all in the same shithole."
"I believe he's good."
"You can believe what you want."
"Not everything's bad, dough. You see the bad in everything. You know too much."
"I guess it's true. Knowledge bred my pessimism."
"Do you wanna say a prayer wif me?"
"No, that's alright. Go on ahead- quietly."
Phillip prayed all night. He prayed for himself, his family, his friends. He prayed for the good people and the bad people in the world. He thanked God he didn't know too much so he could love Him. He prayed for Him to forgive his cellmate's sins.
The next day, Phillip Hayes was escorted from the cell.
Abel never saw him again.