by Marni Mann
I hadn’t been around to hear #1501’s screams.
What a shame.
I shut the log and sat in one of the seats behind the desk. The monitor showed all twelve inmates. I wasn’t interested in looking at any of them. So, I pulled up the feed from The Pit. Even though I knew it wouldn’t be there, I still had to check. There were a few hands and a toe. But no tongue. No remnants from #1501. Her body had been turned to ashes, and those were somewhere in the ocean.
Damn.
Since Bond had reminded me of the day when I had moved into his place, I’d been thinking about my mother a lot. She didn’t enter my thoughts all that often. I didn’t allow her to. But, when a female came into our prison, like #1501, and I heard she had children, my mom would find her way into my head.
Fucking cunt.
I hoped, one day, she would piss off the wrong person and find herself on our plane, and I would get to see her face behind bars. I wanted her to get a taste of the man I had become, to leave her in that cell so that she knew what it felt like to wait for my return. And then, as I listened to her screams, I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle every bit of air from her lungs.
We all had reasons for being here.
My mother was the start of mine.
“Baby, are you packed?” my mother shouted from downstairs. “We have to go!”
She sounded all crazy, like during the mornings I was running late for the bus because I had taken too long in the shower. But it was Saturday morning, so I didn’t get why she was in a hurry. She was just dropping me off at Shank’s place for the night, and I went there all the time.
I looked down at the empty trash bags by my feet. Mom had told me not to use the backpack I usually took when I went to Shank’s. She’d said I needed something bigger and that I had to bring more stuff than usual. It made no sense why I needed so much, but she had given me two of these big, black plastic bags to pack all my stuff in.
God, she was acting strange today.
“I don’t need these bags!” I yelled back. “I’m just gonna bring some jeans. If I get them dirty, Shank’ll let me borrow some of his clothes.”
I heard her climb the stairs, and she came into my room, walking straight over to my dresser. She was moving so fast, I couldn’t see what shirts she was grabbing. Every time she turned around, her arms would be full. She quickly filled the first bag. Then, she opened the second and started tossing clothes in there.
“Mom, stop.”
She didn’t answer. She just kept on packing for me.
“I’m only going for a night. I don’t want to come home and have to put all this stuff away.”
She looked at me for just a second, and that was when I saw the tears on her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she kept on filling that second bag. When she was done, I heard her go into the bathroom and take some things off the sink. I figured it was my toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Come on!” she shouted as she dragged the bags to the top of the stairs. “We have to go now.”
What the heck?
Not wanting to get screamed at, I shut the door to my room and went into the kitchen.
When I opened the fridge for some orange juice, she said, “Take the brown bag that’s on the top shelf. I made you a lunch to go.”
“Lunch?” I turned around to face her. “But it’s not even ten in the morning.”
“You can eat it later if you’re not hungry now.”
This morning just kept getting weirder.
“Take the bag, baby, and shut the refrigerator door. We really have to get going.”
I tucked it under my arm and followed her outside. The back seat was full of my clothes, and a coffee was in the center console. Mom never drank coffee. She’d said it made her too wired.
“What are you doing today?” I asked.
Her head moved, looking both ways, as she backed out of the parking spot. When she got out of the neighborhood, she drove much faster than normal, and she wasn’t staying inside the lines.
“Mom?”
“Yes?” she said although it had taken her a while to answer.
“I asked, what are you doing today?”
We reached a red light, and she stared at me. There were still tears, but they weren’t on her cheeks. Only in her eyes this time.
“I don’t know.”
She took a drink of the coffee and cringed when she swallowed, like I would do whenever she made me eat cooked carrots. Nasty stuff.
“Probably just hanging around the house.”
“All day?”
“Yes.”
Then, why had she rushed me to get out the door?
Maybe someone was coming over. That had to be it.
I turned on the radio and sang along to the tunes until we reached Shank’s. Mom and I lived in a small apartment, but Shank’s house was a mansion. They even had people working there who would cook and clean for them. Since Shank’s mom had died when he was a baby, it was just him and Bond. Because I was there so much, Bond treated me like another son. He was the one who had talked to us about sex and taught us how to put on a condom even though we hadn’t needed to use one yet, and he had given us his login to some porn sites.
He was the coolest.
I hadn’t told Mom any of that because she would be upset. She was harder to talk to, and she treated me like I was still a baby. That bugged me.
Mom parked in Shank’s long driveway, and we both got out of the car. I took the bags out of the back seat and she walked me to the door just as Bond opened it.
“Hey, kid,” he said, standing at the top of the steps.
Mom stopped before the stairs and didn’t go any further.
“You’re not coming in?” I asked her.
Whenever she dropped me off, she always came in for a few minutes and talked to Bond. Sometimes, she’d even stay for dinner.
“No, I really have to get going.”
“Okay, whatever. You’re coming to pick me up tomorrow night, right?”
Now, the tears were dripping. Her chin was quivering, too.
“Mom, what is wrong? Do you want me to come home with you?”
“Just come give me a hug,” she said.
I left the bags on the top step and went back down to meet her. I wrapped my arms around her neck, and she hugged me so tight, she lifted me. She did that once in a while. I hated it because it made me feel like a little kid, and I wanted to be treated like an adult. But I didn’t fight her on it today. Something told me she needed it. I just hoped Shank wasn’t looking out the window and that Bond wouldn’t tell him because he’d give me so much crap for it.
“Be careful, sweet boy,” she whispered in my ear. “Be good, and don’t get in any trouble. I’m so proud of you. I always have been, always will be.”
“I know, Mom. You don’t have to say all this. I’m just going away for the night.”
“Yes, I do. I need you to know how much I love you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”
“Okay.”
She set me back on my feet and hurried to her car. Once she got in and shut the door, I grabbed the bags and brought them inside.
“Got a lot of stuff there, don’t you, kid?” Bond said from behind me.
When I looked at him, he was still on the step, facing the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Mom said I needed it all. I don’t know why.”
“I’m sure she has her reasons. I don’t pretend to understand women and the things they do sometimes.”
I carried the bags up the big set of stairs, so I could bring them into Shank’s room. As I got to the top, I looked down and saw Bond. From the big window over the front door, I could see Mom slowly working her way out of the driveway and onto the road.
“Did I forget something?” I yelled down at him, unsure of why he was still outside.
It was pretty cool out, and he was lettin
g in tons of cold air.
“No, kid. I’m just getting some fresh air.”
Wherever the hell my mother was, I hoped she was gumming her food and having to write down whatever she wanted to say because some motherfucker had ripped out her tongue. That cunt had known she wasn’t coming back for me. And, if she came into my prison with a tongue still in her mouth, I’d rip it out. Not with a saw, but with my own goddamn fingers.
Bitches in here wondered why tears didn’t affect me.
It was because they were just salty water.
And that didn’t mean shit.
My phone vibrated from my pocket, and I pulled it out. Layla’s name was on the screen.
I answered the call and held it up to my ear. “Miss my cock already?”
“Mmm, you have no idea. My pussy feels so empty without you in it.”
I leaned back in my chair and kicked my boots on top of my desk. “What are you wearing?”
She laughed. “Are you alone this time? Last time, we almost started something, and we got interrupted.”
I looked at the monitors that showed all twelve guys. “I’m alone.”
“Lying in bed?”
“I’m touching my dick. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Well, yes, but I want you to come home, too.”
I put my hand over my zipper and pushed my cock down, so it would stop rubbing against my jeans. “Give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll be there.”
“You can’t come sooner?”
“Layla, I can come right now if you tell me how you’re touching yourself.”
She laughed again. “How about we come visit you?”
My hard-on was quickly softening.
This was why I didn’t get involved with women. Why I gave them my cock and nothing else.
I didn’t like questions, and Layla was starting to ask too many.
She might have one of the nicest cunts I’d ever been in, but it needed to stay in Miami and let me fuck it whenever I wanted, or I would end this shit right now.
I dropped my feet onto the floor. “You’re going to have to wait until I return, darling.”
“Are you sure we can’t change your mind?” She paused, and I heard a beep. “Check your text messages.”
It was a picture of Layla getting fucked in the ass by the stripper. As I stared at it more, I realized it was the same blue dildo I’d used on the girls while I was there. It had been in all their holes, and now, it was in the only one my cock hadn’t entered. But my finger had been in there, so I knew how tight it was, how hot it had felt on my skin, how it had clenched when she came.
I was jealous of a dildo; that was something new for me.
“Fuck, you look hot.”
One of the images on the monitor caught my attention. It showed an inmate sitting in the gyno chair in Diego’s OR. He was beat to hell, and Diego was trying to saw off his arm. The problem was, the dude was three times Diego’s size. Larger inmates usually meant thicker muscles and harder bones.
Diego was going to need some help.
And my conversation with Layla had made me hungry enough to go volunteer.
“Then, come back, and put your dick where the dildo is,” she said.
I growled but not for the reason she probably thought. “When I call you tomorrow, I want all your little toys nearby. And, when I tell you to fuck your cunt with one of them, I want to hear how good it feels. No questions, no demands. I want full submission from you.” I stood and walked to the door. “Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good-bye, Layla.”
Twenty-Eight
Tyler
Four Years Ago
Jae and I didn’t have a normal relationship. We would only see each other once a month. I couldn’t risk meeting him more often than that. Our rule was that we never talked about work. I didn’t know what he did for a living, and he didn’t know about The Achurdy. It prevented me from lying, and it stopped him from getting involved.
He never broke that rule, never pressured me to see him more. He would take whatever I gave him and wouldn’t complain. He was patient and understanding, and I didn’t know what I had done to deserve someone like him. But I didn’t take it for granted. I would try to give him as much of my time as I could.
I’d bought a burner phone to call and text him. I kept it hidden in my closet, never bringing it out with me in case one of the girls looked in my purse. We would set times to talk. A quick chat before I went to work, a longer one when I got home. It was so hard, having him in the same city as me, only fifteen minutes away, and not being able to see him more.
But it just meant that, during our monthly dates, we would have to make the most of our time. We’d meet at the bar, always sitting in the same place, ordering the same food. We’d leave out the back door where Jae was parked and go to his place. I wouldn’t stay the night. I’d just hang out a little past midnight, and then he’d drop me off a few blocks from my building.
During all my other nights off, I’d make sure to spend those evenings with Wynter and the girls, so they wouldn’t think I was acting strange. And, on the nights I was with Jae, I’d tell them I needed some time alone, and they all seemed to understand. I wasn’t the only one who stayed in sometimes; therefore, there was no reason for them to suspect anything was going on with me.
But there was something going on, and it was brewing in the middle of my chest. I’d felt it from the moment I met Jae at the bar tonight. I barely ate half of my burger and didn’t touch my fries. It wasn’t that I was tired of the food here. It was that the reality of our situation was gnawing at me.
Jae noticed because he asked Gary—the bartender whose name we had finally learned—to stick the rest of our food in a box, so we could bring it home. Gary then poured us two cups of beer to take with us, and I climbed in Jae’s SUV.
I didn’t make much conversation on the way to his house. I hated myself for being so emotional, and I was angry that I was wasting the little time we had together. I didn’t want any of that to come out in my voice, so I stayed quiet, cozying up against the door and window, stealing quick glances of him as he drove.
He’d only gotten handsomer since the first time I met him. His eyes would lighten when he got excited, when he was turned on, when his lips were kissing me. His hands were the roughest part of him, constantly touching me like I was his last piece of food.
I was so tuned into him that I didn’t feel the car stop when he parked next to his building. But he helped me get out and led me up the steps. I didn’t need to hold the railing anymore while we made our way through the dark. I knew the distance to the top and how far the landing was from his door. And I still smiled every time he flicked on the light.
It was so comfortable here.
A place I could see myself fitting into.
Except I could never live here. I could never live anywhere with him.
I dropped onto the couch and tucked my legs into my chest. Jae came over a minute later with the beers we’d taken from the bar, and he set them on the table.
“What’s up, little lady?”
I loved when he called me that. I was tiny compared to his height and build, and I enjoyed how small he made me feel. I never felt that way in my everyday life. I couldn’t; my job required me to take control and manipulate situations. But, when I was with him, I felt cared for, protected.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I wanted more.
“We’ve been together for a couple of months now,” I said. “During that whole time, I’ve always known what we can’t have, but for some reason, it’s really getting to me right now.”
“Why? You’ve made it clear, and I’ve respected it.”
He was talking about the night I had set the boundaries, the night he had followed me into the restroom at the bar. Before we’d left, I’d told him what I was able to give him and what I couldn’t, and I hadn’t needed to mention it again.
He wasn’t the problem.
It was me.
I was struggling.
“Jae, I’ll never be able to marry you. I’ll never be able to live with you. I’ll never even be able to have children.” I realized these were things we hadn’t ever discussed. I didn’t even know if he wanted any of this. But it was on my mind, and I couldn’t hold back, not with how important it all felt. “I’m worried that, one day, the things I can give you won’t be enough.”
I felt his hand on my face, drawing my chin up so that our eyes locked. “You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know or haven’t assumed. I’ve accepted this already, and my feelings haven’t changed.”
That voice—the deepness of it, the way it demanded my attention, how it held me—it truly made me feel like everything was going to be fine.
“I talk to you twice a day,” he continued. “We text. We have phone sex. When you tell me you can be at the bar, I’m there every time. And, when you come back here and say you have to leave, I never fight you to stay longer.” Even though I tried, his fingers wouldn’t let me look away. “Is that it? You want me to fight you to stay?”
“I’m afraid, if you did, I wouldn’t be able to say no.”
“I don’t have a problem with what we have going on here. But something tells me you do. So, what is it, Tyler? What’s been eating at you all night?”
I tried finding the right words. It was hard. It had been so long since I was asked to share my feelings that I couldn’t define what they looked like.
“One day,” I started, “I know I’m going to want more. You know, to wake up next to you, to spend more than a handful of hours with you. To travel and go to a place that isn’t our bar. But I can’t do any of that. Not now, not ever. It’s the worst feeling to know I can’t choose you.”
“I’ll protect you. Whatever it is, I’ll make sure—”