“Sure.” Rogers answers that look by giving him one of his own, that says ‘if you do that, I will share your dark secrets.’
This gets a flashy grin and hands held out in a sign of yielding to a higher authority.
Halfway down the corridor he’s jump scared out of his skin when the bells sound to announce the general population is free of their cells and can go to the cafeteria. The corridors are about to flood with a stream of different shades of grey fabrics. Some crisp new shirts versus old and worn out. The crisper the prison greys the higher up in the pecking order the men are. Being above your fellow man in power means first picks on laundry days. So they get the nice threads leaving those atthe bottom of the hierarchy to pick up the scraps.
Jasper sticks out in the crowd due to his bright orange. Why the newly imprisoned are put in orange is something unknown and you would think counterproductive. It’s a literal flashing beacon to paint you as a target.
Maybe that’s the point the prison board is going for? To beat them down immediately and break their spirit swiftly.
It’s sure working on the kid. Pale, clammy looking. He is clearly not coping with the transitioninto prison. Can’t really blame him, what with a serial killer sniffing at his heels.
It has Rogers feeling like shit, knowing he has no sway over Jasper’s fate.
11
SINN'OUS
Satan’s presence coats every follicleof space, both in his cell and in his body. He exists because Satan decrees it. He kills because Satan decrees it. His every breath is dedicated to Satan.
So when he finds times like these, where he can lay back in his bunk and baskin the glow of all the satanic scripture decorating his walls, he becomes murderous when someone decides it’s a smart idea to disrupt him.
He doesn’t disguise his irritation when he casts his gaze over his body to the freshly opened cell door. Rogers is standing in his space swimming in a cloud of judgement.
“Are you going to share or continue to disrupt my morning.” It’s not a question, he doesn’t want an answer but will take one if it gets the guard gone sooner.
Rogers throws a glance to the side, checking the platform’s lengthfor prying ears. “Just left the southcorridor, and Jasper hiding out in the showers. Why do you have to torment the kid?”
Sinn'ous declines to answer, steepling his fingers over his chest he makes like a deceased body in a coffin, head laid back to stare unblinking at the ceiling. “Why do you assume it’s me.” It’s not a question, not really. He knows the answers and if Rogers divulges his take on the issue, so be it.
“Because I know you.” Rogers steps into the cell, looking down on Sinn'ous’s prone form. “He doesn’t deserve to be here, and definitely doesn’t deserve to have you fucking with his head.”
“If you really must know.” Sinn'ous sits up abruptly, swinging his legs off the bunk, causing Rogers to stumble a healthy stepback. “I haven’t touched him. So whatever you think you know, you’re not even close.”
“Then why is he on edge like someone’s gunning for him?”
“Showers you said.” Sinn'ous redirects the conversation onto a new path. Standing to his full height and straightening out his crumpled prison greys.
“I left him alone. Figured he could use the break. Break from you.”
“I told you.”
“I know, I know. But I don’t believe you.” Rogers holds a hand up to lessen the blow. “But I’m not getting involved. It’s not my business, just. . .” He bites his lip and glances away. “Don’t kill the kid. Okay?”
Sinn'ous offers nothing further towards the discussion and Rogers bows out, a look of dejection on his face, leaving the cell to do whatever it is he should be doing that isn’t getting up in Sinn'ous’s business.
On a whim Sinn'ous scoops some of his commissary purchases up, bringing the food with him out of the cell. His prey is vulnerable and what better way to coax a skittish doe then to offer it treats.
He leaves the food under Jasper’s pillow, its packaging is noticeable but not overtly so. The sheet on the other hand is a ruffled mess. His hands float their way to flatteningthe small creases into smooth submission.
The urge to upend Reni’s bunk is irresistibly tempting, but he kills the urge. The knowledgethat the bothersome man is in The Hole is enough to satiate his hunger. For now.
He carries his strung-out body from the cell, each step a lead weight tied to his ankles. Barely three steps out a familiar head of hazelnuthair is coming up the stairs.
Trapped on the platform, Sinn'ous has no place to go, and he isn’t ready to broadcast his intention. The boy isn’t ready for it.
He manages to duck into another’s cell unseen, his lungs tight to match his balled fists. The organ racing to the finish line, reminding him he is alive and in need of killing someone else’s organ. To draw a line in the sand and declare an end to their life’s race.
Jasper passes by the cell without slowing his stride. Sinn'ous drops the breath he held within and scrunches his nose at the lack of environmental awareness his prey possesses.
