by Zoey Parker
But of course, that seemed like it had happened to someone else, a million years ago.
Kurt tried to hold his mind together by attempting to picture the world beyond these walls. There was a blue sky somewhere, he told himself, or a starry one—he'd lost all sense of time. There were wide open spaces with roads running through them, and men riding motorcycles with the fresh air blowing in their faces. There were families, husbands and wives and their children, laughing together and unpacking picnics like he used to do with Diana and Alexander. People were drinking in bars and making love in bathrooms. Life was going on as it always had, even if he couldn't see it.
But no matter how much his imagination insisted that these things were real, the only true reality seemed to be the walls around him—their thickness stretching out forever all around him, an entire planet of merciless metal and stone, built just to keep him from ever being free again.
The rational part of his mind knew these thoughts were madness, and he hated the fact that being in here was breaking him down so easily. But he felt helpless against it. He hadn't allowed himself to imagine that anything could be worse than waking up in a gray prison cell in block G day after day, but oh, this was. This was so much worse than anything from his wildest nightmares.
He felt like he would rather be dead than spend another second feeling like this. Sarah and Ron would be upset, sure, but they'd get over it. Everything that had happened was his fault. He was a curse, a blight, a cancer. They'd have been better off if he'd never been born, and once he was dead, they could move on with their lives instead of trying to rescue him and getting themselves into deeper trouble. Maybe he'd even see his wife and son again in the afterlife. Even if he didn't—even if eternal nothingness awaited him, or hell itself—he'd still be gone from this wretched place forever.
He'd be free.
However, even that option seemed denied to him. His clothes didn't seem adequate to hang himself, and even if they had been, he couldn't find anything high enough to tie them to. The only metal object was the toilet, and it was too sturdy to break down into anything sharp.
The only chance for suicide seemed to lie in biting through his own wrists. Could he bring himself to do that? He looked down at them, considering...
Suddenly, Kurt heard the heavy lock on the door slide aside. It slowly started to swing open, letting in a sliver of fluorescent light from the hallway outside. For a moment, this crack in Kurt's reality threw him off guard, and he even smiled. Could Sarah have found a way to visit him down here? Or was it some other CO, coming to tell him that they figured out he'd been framed and they were letting him return to G block?
But when Gable stepped in, Kurt's heart sagged again. Even in his confused state, he knew that seeing Gable was never a good sign.
“So, I'm guessing right about now, cafeteria food and a bunk in block G doesn't sound so bad to you, huh?” Gable asked.
Kurt stared at Gable mutely, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how crazy, sick, and miserable he was feeling.
“You can probably guess why I'm down here,” Gable continued. “Hawkeye sent me to tell you it's still not too late. Most men in his position wouldn't have given you nearly as many chances to prove your loyalty, but hey, he's just a special kind of guy. He doesn't want you rotting away down here. That's not the kind of fella he is.
“All you have to do is stop pushing back against him. Understand? It makes him look bad, and he can't afford that. You agree that you'll get in line and follow orders from now on, and we can arrange for a witness to say that they saw the murders, and that you weren't the one who did them. Heck, we can set some lifer up for it. What difference does it make, right? They're already in here forever, so one more notch on their belts won't matter.
“But if you keep spitting in Hawkeye's eye like you've been doing, we'll make sure you go down for these two killings. Then you'll be tried, you'll be convicted, and you'll end up a lifer. So what do you say? Are we going to go for the carrot, or the stick?”
These words penetrated the red haze of Kurt's brain. Gable and Hawkeye had stripped him of everything. His freedom, his dignity, even his ability to trust his own mind. They'd ordered him to be beaten and starved. They'd turned him into an animal, and now they were trying to train him like one—rewarding him when he obeyed their commands, punishing him when he didn't.
Well, maybe he wasn't a good man. Maybe he was a piece of shit. Maybe everything that had happened since that night in the bar was his fault, and he deserved to die for it.
But he was still a goddamn human being, and if he was going to die, he'd die as a man instead of a dog.
Using the last of his strength, Kurt launched himself at Gable with a snarl. Gable stumbled backward, his eyes comically wide—he clearly hadn't expected this response, and he fumbled with his baton, trying to yank it from his belt. Kurt's fingers closed over it first, wrenching it out and raising it over his head as Gable fell backward into the hall.
Kurt was on top of Gable in seconds, clawing at his eyes with one hand as he raised the baton with the other. Gable cringed, terrified, and raised his arms to protect his face. He was too slow—Kurt's nails hadn't been cut or filed in almost a week, and they were sharp enough to leave a series of deep gouges under Gable's left eye.
The first time Kurt brought the baton down, it connected with Gable's forearm. Kurt hoped it would snap a bone or two, but Gable's bulging muscles cushioned the blow. He was still trying to get up, but Kurt straddled his wide chest, pinning him to the floor.
Gable yelled for the guard in charge of Ad-Seg. “Leroy! Help! Bellows's gotten out of his cell!”
Kurt swung the baton again, and this time, it hit Gable squarely between the eyes with a thwack. Gable went cross-eyed for a moment, let out a groan, and fell back to the floor, unconscious.
The alarms started to honk, and above them, Kurt heard a strange roaring sound, like what he used to hear when he'd listen to the inside of a sea shell as a child. It took him a few seconds to realize it was the voices of the other inmates in Ad-Seg, howling and cheering through the slots in their doors.
“Take 'im down, Bellows!”
“Yeah, that's right! Fuck him up! Fuck him up! Fuck—”
“You're the fuckin' man, Bellows!”
“Right between the eyes! Put his lights out for good, the cocksucker!”
A door at one end of the corridor slid open and a squad of corrections officers marched in wearing riot gear. They rushed over to Kurt, pulling him off of Gable and prying the baton from his hand. Kurt felt a series of kicks and punches to his torso, but the pain barely registered, dulled by a strange euphoria.
Gable had come down to gloat and treat Kurt like some kind of trained pet. In response, Kurt had scarred his face and probably given him a concussion.
Good. Fuck him.
Because Keith had been right. These people could take everything away from Kurt, but they couldn't rob him of his soul. No one could snatch that away from him. He could decide to give it freely, but instead, he'd chosen to stand his ground.
The guards dragged Kurt back to his cell, threw him down on the flimsy plastic mattress, and slammed the metal door. From the jagged agony in his side, he could tell that his injured ribs had been re-broken.
But he didn't care.
He was too busy laughing triumphantly, until tears spilled down his cheeks.
Chapter 30
Sarah
The day after Gable was attacked by Kurt was Sarah's day off.
Sarah had celebrated when she'd heard what happened down in the hole. She knew Gable had gone down there to bully Kurt into playing by the rules, and when she heard about Gable's injuries from the other guards, it took all her self-control not to throw her head back and laugh. She was just sorry to hear that Kurt hadn't been able to give Gable a solid kick to the balls while he was at it.
She knew the effect that Ad-Seg could have on prisoners—both mentally and physically—and she'd been
scared for Kurt, knowing that the claustrophobia of incarceration was already difficult for him. But when she found out that he'd still had enough strength to throw himself at Gable and snatch his baton, she was relieved.
Just hang on a little while longer, Kurt, she thought to herself. There's still a chance for us to get out of this together.
When she got home, she realized that she still hadn't bought a pregnancy test. The news about Kurt and Gable had distracted her again. It was probably for the best, though. Given what she'd have to do the next day, it would be better for her not to have the results hanging over her in case they turned out positive. She'd need all her focus if this was going to work, and then she could pick up the test afterward and deal with the results then.
She didn't sleep well that night due to nervousness, and when she woke up the next morning, she threw up again. She tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything—that it was just anxiety, that anyone would throw up repeatedly if they found themselves in her position.
Those thoughts weren't much comfort to her. For the hundredth time, she wondered what would happen if the test came back positive, and for the hundredth time, she tried to shove those thoughts away.
Sarah threw on some casual clothes, got into her car, and drove to the nearest rental car company. Gable would recognize her vehicle if he saw it, and if this plan was going to have a snowball's chance in hell, she knew she'd need to be careful and cover her tracks. She rented a plain-looking white sedan for the afternoon and drove to Saint Felipe de Jesus High School.
Then she parked across from the school, got the camera on her phone ready, and waited for the final bell to ring.
When it did, the front doors of the building were flung open and a sea of teenagers in school uniforms flooded out, screaming and laughing and shoving and jeering. Sarah looked at them carefully, singling out a long-legged girl of Mexican descent whose hair was tied back in a ponytail. She waved goodbye to a couple of her friends and then crossed the street, adjusting her pink backpack.
She matched the description Keith had given Sarah, but still, she had to be sure. She peered through her camera, zooming in on the name embroidered on the front of the girl's shirt: Selena Gomez .
Sarah nodded. So far, so good.
Selena peered around quickly to make sure no one was watching her. Then she walked over to a blue two-door convertible, getting in on the passenger's side.
Gable was waiting behind the wheel. When Selena got in, Gable leaned over, putting an arm around her and giving her a long kiss on the lips.
Sarah started to snap pictures.
Selena gently touched the bandages on Gable's cheek and forehead, looking concerned. Sarah couldn't hear their words, but she saw Gable making some kind of “Aw shucks, it's not so bad” gesture before he kissed Selena again. His arms shifted, and it was hard to tell, but it looked like he was sliding one hand between her legs.
Right across from the school? Sarah thought smugly, continuing to take photos. You brazen son of a bitch, Gable.
It almost seemed like Gable must have heard Sarah's thoughts, because he withdrew his hand and turned his car on. Sarah quickly took a few final shots which included Gable's license plate before he drove off.
So there it was.
Sarah had hard evidence that Gable was having a relationship with Roberto Torres's 18-year-old cousin.
If word of this reached the prison, it would be a race to see who would eat him alive first—the Sinners for having sex with their leader's barely legal relative, or the Brothers for betraying their whole racist ideology by fucking a Mexican girl. This info was so juicy, Sarah could hardly believe it was true. She had to check and re-check the pictures, just to make sure.
But now what?
Sure, she could try to corner Gable alone during her next shift and lord it over him, warning him to stay off her case and stop screwing with Kurt. That didn't seem smart, though. It would just put Gable between a rock and a hard place, since the Brothers would still expect him to follow their orders. If Gable was trapped like that, there was no telling what kind of desperate moves he could make. Worse, if he knew she had this evidence against him, that might give him enough time to think of how he could slime his way out of it. Sarah would be back to square one—and it would be even worse, since now she'd have Gable as a real enemy.
She could go to the Brothers or the Sinners with the info, but again, what then? In the best-case scenario, they'd have Gable killed. Then he'd be replaced by some other guard who was loyal to the Brothers, and their abuse of her and Kurt would continue. Again, she'd be back where she started.
No, this kind of thing had to be used carefully, with surgical precision. It was like having a gun with a single bullet in it—a powerful weapon, sure, but she had to make her one shot count.
Maybe Kurt could help her come up with the best way to use it. Now that she had compromising information about Officer Leroy in Ad-Seg as well, she'd be able to visit with him.
But first things first.
Sarah dropped off the rental car, then went to a drugstore on the way home and bought a pregnancy test. The clerk, a middle-aged woman with frizzy gray hair and thick glasses, studiously kept her eyes down as she rang up the purchase. Even so, Sarah thought she saw the clerk shake her head almost imperceptibly.
When Sarah got home, she took the test, then sat on the lid of the toilet and waited for the results. Finally, two lines appeared on the strip.
That was it, then. She was pregnant. It wasn't what she'd been hoping for, but even so, it felt better knowing for sure. It didn't even feel like much of a shock, and she realized that on some level, she'd been steeling herself for this ever since she first noticed the blood on her sheets.
She went to the bedroom, stretched out on top of the blanket, and stared at the ceiling.
How would Kurt react?
The truth was, she couldn't even begin to guess. His entire life had already been turned upside down since he'd gone to River Oak. Contemplating a two-year sentence was one thing—lots of short-time prisoners were released with babies waiting for them at home, either from sex before they'd been sent away or during a conjugal visit. But now that he was facing the possibility of a life sentence, what would the thought of having a child on the outside do to him?
And despite what they'd shared in the infirmary, how could she even know for sure that he would want her to have his baby? Their whole relationship had been chaos and uncertainty from the beginning. He was clearly still mourning his wife and child. How could Sarah possibly hope to fill that void for him? What if he rejected her for trying?
Sarah didn't have any answers to these questions, but she knew one thing: She was going to keep this baby. She couldn't bring herself to abort it, or give it away for adoption. It was a part of Kurt, and she wanted it in her life, if only because it was probably the closest thing she'd have to being with him.
She hoped Kurt would understand that, even if he didn't want any part of it. She hoped he wouldn't be upset with her for her decision.
Eventually, the sun set and Sarah's eyelids grew heavy. She fell into a shallow and restless sleep, dreaming of how things might go when she saw Kurt again tomorrow. None of the potential outcomes seemed good.
Chapter 31
Sarah
The next day, Sarah woke up early to get a take-out bag of breakfast from a diner down the street. Then she went to River Oak a couple of hours before her shift was due to start. She wore her uniform to avoid attracting attention, and whenever someone noticed her and asked what she was doing there so early, she mumbled something about needing the overtime and scuttled away quickly, trying to keep the bag of food behind her back.
She carried the bag to the overseer's office in Ad-Seg, where Officer Leroy sat in front of an array of security monitors with his feet up on the desk, reading an old, tattered issue of Penthouse. Leroy was a morbidly obese man in his late forties, with short, spiky red hair that was starting to turn gray.
The monitors displayed the live feeds from the cameras in the corridor, showing that the hall was empty and the cell doors were shut.
When Leroy saw Sarah, he tossed the magazine aside, licking his chops lasciviously. Sarah wasn't sure whether he was ogling her or the food she was holding.
“Officer Martin! What brings you down to the bowels of River Oak?”
Sarah smiled warmly. “Well, I've been meaning to visit you down here ever since I started this job. Ad-Seg is my favorite part of the prison. There's just so much history down here. It must be fascinating!”
“It sure is, toots. We've had lots of famous bad guys come and go over the years. Come have a seat, and I'll tell you about some of them.” He chortled, putting his feet on the floor and patting his knee invitingly.