Vil leaned forward, letting me know he did not brush his teeth, peeling his upper lip and exposing a canine. “When we get into the Battle, I’m not going to kill you fast. I’m going to take it nice and slow so your brother can watch.”
“Okay.” I knew I should be frightened and so I searched for the feeling, however I was unable to summon it. I looked at him blankly, waiting for more.
“And when you are screaming for me to end your suffering, I’m going to stick my dick in every hole in your body—”
“Including my nostrils?” I asked. “You must have a very tiny penis.”
Pure rage flared in his eyes. “You —”
“I’ve stopped listening.” I knocked on the glass guard window.
Reluctantly the guards ceased their pornography and let me know through a disgruntled sigh what they thought of it and faced me.
“I would like to have a private cell,” I said.
“The only people who get private cells are the violent one’s downstairs,” a guard said.
“I would like to have a private cell downstairs.”
“No.”
“Please.” I stabbed my fingers into the glass, showing him my desperation. “These people are going to eat me alive. Literally. There are cannibals in here and I am aware the food is lacking thanks to my brother convincing the state Soulless do not need adequate nutrition.”
“They can’t hurt you.” He showed me his baton. “No one is allowed to cause harm until the Execution Battle. You got two days before you turn into lasagna.”
“You know as well as I do that rule only applies tokilling. The inmates are not allowed to kill each other, but they can very well take gratifications in other ways.” In the corner a man knelt between a woman’s legs pleasuring her. “Please. I need my own cell.”
He threatened me by holding up his baton. “Get back.”
I turned without defeat, quickly finding the solution to my issue.
A skinny man with mouth herpes. “Tonight bitch, you’re going to take my cock—”
“Oh, fantastic!” I beamed at him.
He blinked out of his taunt.
“You’re planning on raping me?” I asked to clear up the confusion. “Yes? That is what you are suggesting?”
“Yeah—”
“I’m staying in cell thirty-six, bunk one. I tend to sleep at about nine o’clock.” I patted his shoulder before I left. “See you then!”
A timely man. He arrived at 9:15. I reached out and grabbed his ankle from where I laid under the mattress and drew him forward. He crashed into the floor. He groaned. He cried as I beat him with the prosthetic leg I had stolen from the man in bunk five. The guards marched in, securing me.
They told me all violence had to wait until the Execution Battle and I could not beat up other inmates. I pointed out that I had not beat him since it was not my leg but the man in bunk five, however, did not disagree that I was violent and should be put in my own private cell downstairs since I would be a menace to others.
I beamed a smile as I was marched downstairs to my new abode—the five-star I could manage in this place—only to halt, reading a name on the file for the inmate in the next cell over.
Dig Graves.
6
I was wet and hating myself.
It was like a light switch. His name upon the file, telling me in just a few steps, the man that haunted my nightmares—and occasional confusing dreams—was so close, I’d be inhaling the air he exhaled. I rubbed my thighs together to discard the heat between them, however that only made it worse.
I needed a hand between my legs.
