The 'N' Word, Book 1

by Tiana Laveen

  “Rodger, it’s going to be okay. I am going to try to get you some help. How long has this been going on?” she whispered as she took a seat next to him.

  “About a month.” The man’s lips moved as though he’d forced the words out after facing the horrid truth he could barely admit. Rodger was only twenty-two years of age, and had the baby face to prove it. Coming from a long line of wild and free brothers and uncles, he’d followed in their uneven, crazy footsteps, which had landed him in a place he simply wasn’t suited for. He’d done something foolish one afternoon – something that would stop his good times in their tracks: He’d stolen a car. Unbeknown to him, it belonged to an off-duty police officer; thus, a fresh can of whoop ass had been purchased on his behalf, and he was made to shell out the cash for the thing, and eat it, too. A hot pursuit began, with police chasing at high speed and driving the terrified young man way the fuck out of his mind.

  His judgment was more than impaired – the shit barely existed – but what could have landed him in prison for just a short stint ended up stealing his entire future and tossing it off a damn cliff because then, the unthinkable happened. An innocent bystander was struck and killed in the process as he attempted to make a smooth getaway. The vehicle lifted up off the ground and careened out of control onto a nearby sidewalk chock full of pedestrians.

  At the moment the teenage boy drew his last breath, in a way, Rodger had drawn his final one as well. And now, here he was, holed up in Holman, and he’d not be leaving any time soon. Rodger had earnest remorse, seemed to drift in and out of severe downheartedness, and at one point in time, he was on suicide watch. It was a hell of a thing how one bad choice could ruin such potential for an eternity, and it broke Mia’s heart, on behalf of the sixteen year old in the ground, as well as the misguided young man before her, who was being tormented on an hourly basis. He could barely read, but he understood just fine. The worst though was hearing him confess that being dead would be far more pleasant than staying one more day behind those prison walls.

  For days, she’d been working on him, trying to bring his spirits up. She got him to the point that he could picture a better day. She also helped him discover he was good at some things that didn’t involve criminal activity, such as, he had an excellent memory and that worked wonders for his interest in theater and acting.

  Unfortunately, just as she’d cracked open his hidden little world, he’d turned inside himself, and now there he sat, fighting back tears from the moment he’d sat down before her. He was so bright, full of promise, but his damn spirit had been broken into two, three, and then four multiplied by more, so much more. She stared at the man for a moment or two, giving him a little quiet.

  His pale skin looked as if he’d never seen the light of day, and his bright blue eyes and almost platinum white hair made him stand out from the rest. Regrettably, that baby face and porcelain skin had attracted the wrong sort of attention… the kind that turned pride into dust, self-worth into desperation, and happiness into continuous waves of despair. He’d just broken down to the core and while he was in shambles, out rolled a piece of himself tied to a cry…

  Two men had sexually assaulted him, and then, they invited their friends to join in on the fun. He’d been rented out like a scooter and passed around like a collection plate. From his understanding, they had no intentions of stopping, and that made the notion of taking his own life all the sweeter, tempting, and lovely…

  “I promise to try and get you help, okay? I will see if you can be moved.” Her brain worked overtime as she constructed ideas in her mind, trying to dredge up ways to help the young man who told her repeatedly that no one seemed to care about his plight.

  “Thank you, please… please help me.” His eyes screamed and begged, more than his mouth ever could. “I gotta be careful, ’cause if they find out I told and someone believes me, it could get worse if they don’t move me into protective custody… like them jumpin’ me, cuttin’ me, stuff like that. Maybe comin’ from you, someone will care.”

  His eyes washed over with a brand new, fresh batch of tears. After lightly patting his back, she rose from her seat and tended to another student but her thoughts were scattered about like confetti, although definitely without the luster and glitz.

  I have to help him. He needs it so badly!

  “Excuse me for a moment, class.”

  Several of the men sitting there nodded as she made her way towards her over-sized purse sitting on a desk across the room, while a guard looked on from the opposite side. The place smelled of freshly sharpened pencils. The pleasant sound of paper turning carried on the air like subtle musical notes, softening the blow of the news laid at her feet. She rummaged through her purse, moving her silky Asian lipstick holder in colors of crimson, gold and emerald out of the way, then pulled out the piece of folded paper with Aaron’s schedule typed across it. She wasn’t certain why, but she wanted the damn thing in her hands – a way to touch him from afar, yet knowing he was so close…

  I need to talk to him NOW! But I can’t… I can’t tell him who I really am, and he’s come so far…

  There’s no way I could pull that off anyway. We aren’t due to talk again for several days on the phone. I could write a letter, but he may not get it right away… I will have to figure something out…

  She clasped the piece of paper to her chest, crunching it in a tight grasp as she shot the fellow a glance. He’d buried his face in the pages of a workbook, but she highly doubted that Rodger was able to truly concentrate on his studies just at that moment. Matter of fact, he appeared as if at any moment, he’d topple over, crash and burn…

  Okay, I’ve got it… yes, that will work. Hold on, Rodger. I’m sending the big dogs, though he is a party of one …

  AARON HEEDED THE woman’s words as her voice echoed every now and again, intermingled was a sniff here and there. He got word that she needed to speak to him on the phone. The missive contained simply one sentence, written in a letter stamped: Time Sensitive. His baby had been on the verge of tears since she began to discuss the boy’s situation, then finally, her anguish and caring for the young inmate burst free, tearing him up inside like an angry bird clawing and pecking its way out of his ribcage and breaking the tendons and bones along the bloody way. A woman drowning in a sea of her own heartfelt tears was a weak spot for him; he hated it so much, it controlled him in ways he’d never admit.

  Don’t cry, honey…

  “So my cousin said the boy was being…” she paused, seemingly unable to even complete her thought, let alone the sentence.

  “Raped. Fucked,” Aaron stated dryly.

  “Yes…”

  “Your cousin is a friend of his?” He raised a brow as he attempted to gain clarification. Details… details… details… even the smallest specifics of the mess were important.

  “No, uh, not really. They just talk sometimes, they’re on friendly terms, and he said the guy is really scared, Aaron.”

  “What’s your cousin’s name?” He cupped the phone between his chin and shoulder, memorizing every damn thing she stated, collecting pieces of data for his arsenal.

  “Um, Aaron, I really don’t want to—”

  “It’s cool, never mind. I’ll keep him out of this. The young man though, you said his name is Rodger Prather, right?” He shot a glance over his shoulder at Dr. Owens who once again had placed the ear buds in his ear. This time, the man had two books spread in front of him, and appeared in deep concentration. He appreciated the left hand of trust that was issued on his behalf…

  “Yes, Rodger Prather. He’s twenty-two. You think you can help him?”

  “Mmmm, maybe,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Melissa, the less you know, the better off you’ll be. Just understand that I’ll be addressing it.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much, Aaron.”

  “No need to thank me.” He laughed. “Besides, nothing has hap
pened yet.” But he knew that was simply a matter of time… and he had plenty of it.

  “I feel so bad for him.” The woman sniffed.

  “Look, Melissa, guys get raped in places like this all day, every day.” He shrugged. “It happens. I’m not dismissing what you’re sayin’, I’m not actin’ like it’s okay, but you just kind of get used to some things in here; things that aren’t seen as normal out in regular society. There aren’t any women in here, so some guys do what they do. Other guys have wanted to fuck men the entire time, and use this shit as an excuse. Regardless, this young fella is in trouble, no doubt. Since they’ve already farmed his ass out, he’s marked. It ain’t gonna stop; not now, not ever. They knew he was alone, he can’t fight all that good, he’s young, had never served any real time before, and was gullible. He was good as finished before he even put on that white jumpsuit, sweetheart. Anyway, don’t you worry about it, though. I’m tellin’ you I’ll look into it and I will.”

  “Okay, I’ll try not to. It’s just so hard to not worry about him. I don’t know why my cousin telling me this upset me so much, but it did.”

  “Because you are compassionate and caring, that’s why. You ain’t got to worry about it, I’ll worry about it, and I’ll take care of it. You hear me, baby? I got this.”

  “Yes, yes, I hear you.” He could hear the belief and faith in her tone, as if she were sitting a bit taller and prouder due to his words.

  “Good… now that that is off your chest, let’s move on to something important, something that’s been naggin’ at me.”

  The woman audibly swallowed and drew in air, as if she were at the edge of her damn seat…

  Shit, I can’t even tease her right now. Her nerves are a mess…

  His lips parted in a mischievous grin as he leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin with short fingernails, the poker straight dense hairs rough to his touch.

  “What? What’s bothering you?” she asked.

  “I’m starvin’, baby. Send me some more of them brownies.”

  The woman burst out laughing.

  “Okay, no problem, no problem at all. Matter of fact, I can make a batch this evening.”

  “Now that’s love.” He grinned into the phone and laughed lightly.

  “Of course it is, ’cause I love you, Aaron.”

  “I love you, too, baby. I love you so damn much, and I can’t wait to look in those big beautiful eyes of yours, and tell it to your face…”

  SQUAD

  A squad, by definition, is a group, team or assemblage of people having a specific task.

  My squad is known as the White Nationalists of Alabama, a close knit sect, and here in Holman, we roll deep and hard. Despite the inner workings of secret, broken alliances and my continued investigation to find out who is tossing dirt on my grave before I am even dead, my men are a zombie unit, soldiers who answer to NO ONE but ME. I have my own camp, my own crew, my own sect of a few select men whom I’ve recently been at liberty to speak to again. Dr. Owens has allowed more and more freedom, and Warden Huckleberry has obliged, believing it will aid in him never seeing my damn face again… He thinks I’m unarmed in here, but I’m not. My mind is a weapon of mass destruction.

  We don’t have our guns, we don’t have our meet-and-greets, soldier services and barbecues, but we do have our mission, and I’ve given direct orders. I’ve come out from my quiet place to right a white and wrong a fuck-up, because I have the worst of intentions, and I plan to fill a goblet with sacrificial blood before I turn my back and disappear into a cloud of dust…

  AARON STOOD UNDER the gaze of a guard who’d been properly pre-paid like a damn Visa to turn a blind eye. Funny how money talks, makes motherfuckers walk and die hard activists squawk. He cracked his knuckles as his lips curled into a sinister grin. He swallowed a croaky chuckle as he continued to survey the near empty cafeteria. The high, semi-obscure windows allowed circular beams of choppy light every few seconds, pouring from the watchtower and the egg white colored full moon, too. He turned towards Kent, a self-appointed derelict, a degenerate in his own right who prided himself on being the Holman leader of the Phineas Priesthood. He detested Kent and couldn’t hide his growing disgust as he looked at the tall, sloppily built pervert from a short distance.

  “Aaron… your bitches said you wanted to see me.” The man smirked as he ran his large hand over his protruding gut then paused, delicately picking at the fabric of his clothing as if plucking a piece of lint off his distinguished self.

  Aaron quickly checked his surroundings once more, counting his balances and always preparing for the worst-case scenario. His boy Tony stood to his far right, his main man Fred to his left, and they’d formed the perfect triangle with a scattering of a select few lingering in the back, ready to crack heads and put broken bones to bed at a moment’s notice.

  “Yeah, Kent, I do,” Aaron finally addressed the bastard. “Look, it’s real interesting that you called my guys bitches.” He pointed over his shoulder but kept his eye on the man. “Seems to me you’ve turned into a pussy your goddamn self.”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” The man sneered, rising to his feet from his seated position atop a wobbly table barely fit to support his weight.

  “You and some of your family here,” Aaron paused and scratched a sudden, annoying itch along his earlobe, “have turned a young, naïve fool into your boy toy…”

  “Boy toy?” The man’s face morphed into confusion as he crossed his beefy arms.

  “Rodger Prather… ring a bell? Ring some balls in your mouth, maybe?” He smirked, showing a few teeth, hoping they glistened as he cocked his head to the side and waited.

  “What about him?” The man laughed casually. “You want in? You want a piece of the pie?” This caused a soft burst of laughter from the men surrounding him in a protective stance.

  Fuckin’ idiots…

  “Nah,” Aaron grimaced and shook his head as he looked towards the window, pierced with broken rays of light, then back at the man. “Not the least bit interested in screwin’ someone that got the same shit I got… I’ll leave that up to you and your twisted crew.” He winced a bit as if in pain, then flashed his irreverent grin again. “There’s only a small group of you motherfuckers here, your clan. You’re warped. Most of you fuckers are in Oregon, Canada, places like that. You got messed up thoughts and ideologies; no one understands you fuckers half the time, and you try to cling onto White Nationalists, sayin’ we’re one and the same.”

  “We have a lot in common. If we joined up, we’d be unstoppable. Stop this divide and conquer shit, Aaron.”

  “It ain’t divide and conquer; it’s real men versus boys, and real men don’t force-fuck boys in the ass, Kent… No rape. That’s rule number one. You’re no man though, so you wouldn’t understand that. Nah, you ain’t no man. You’re an ugly ass queen, a chronic rapist, a foul piece of dog shit!”

  Two men burst from his side as if they’d been released from some zoo cage, ready to tear him from limb to limb from the look in their eyes.

  “Wait!” Kent screamed as they both caught sight of another guard entering the arena from a short distance. The man was locked and loaded, but Aaron paid the guard no mind. He knew what to do and how to do it, and apparently so did Kent, ensuring neither one of them bit off more than either could chew. “Don’t attack.”

  “Don’t attack, huh? Like dogs…fuckin’ puppies…” He chuckled. “These two motherfuckers couldn’t beat me if I stood here with my hands tied behind my damn back and a paper sack over my head.” He looked at one of the men and then the other, and shook his head as if a deep sorrow suddenly consumed him, ate him up whole. “You bastards spend most of your damn time bombing abortion clinics, committin’ bank robberies, shit like that, while men such as myself and the guys standing proudly behind me do all the grunt work, the hard work, and all you do is the greasy shit that doesn’t change a goddamn thing!”

  “You want to argue politics, Aaron
? I doubt it. Why are you really here? What’s this about?”

  “You know what this is about…”

  “Alright, well, say it! Get to it! Quit insultin’ my beliefs, too!” The man pointed to his chest. “That’s not why you’re here, so leave it outta your mouth.”

  “You’re right, Kent. That’s not why I’m here.” Aaron smirked, enjoying toying with the man.

  “And if you’ve read your damn Bible, Aaron, you’d know why we do what we do and believe what we believe! You’d join us, see eye to eye!”

  “Oh, silly, silly, dumb ass Kent…” Shaking his head sadly, Aaron clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and crossed his arms, pinning his hands tightly under his armpits. “I know my Bible, boy. I know about your group and your people. I probably know more about it than you do.”

  “Humor me…ain’t like I have any place to go.”

  “Sure, why not?” Aaron grinned as he threw up his hands. “The Phineas Priesthood is named for the Israelite Phinehas, grandson of Aaron. How ironic… That’s from the book of Numbers, the 25th chapter and 7th verse. I know my Bible, Kent. I know it upside down, inside out, up and down and all around, sweet lips.”

  A few of Aaron’s friends chuckled.

  “Doesn’t that same Bible you like to quote from talk about havin’ sex with men, hmmm?” Aaron brandished a smile and looked at the man head on through narrowed, steely eyes. “I believe it does… Leviticus, 18:22, and I quote, ‘You shall not lie with a male as with a woman, it is an abomination’…end quote… I guess you think those rules don’t apply anymore ’cause you’re here in Holman, and you’ve got a pretty long ass sentence. Desperate times, desperate measures… Well let me tell you somethin’, Kent Jerkoff McGrew, I don’t give uh finely shredded shit who else you jam up the ass, make into your woman, and even have a prison faggot weddin’ with, but it won’t be Rodger Prather, motherfucker. You and your homo friends are done fuckin’ him and fuckin’ with him, you understand me? It’s over!”