Basically, I’m allowed to leave the island once or twice a week to see Nikki.IfI pull a double to make up for the time I missed. It’s a luxury afforded only to the officers who are married, something the Warden agreed to and Velle begrudgingly accepts—might be one of the other reasons he’s not my biggest fan.
Whatever.I’ve been here longer than everyone except him and Joy. The three of us are the only ones left from the OG crew, andnow, I’m the only one left who’s married. There were a few others back in the day, but they’ve since been transferred elsewhere.
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask—not that I’d get an answer if I did. Because that’s how this works.
You do what The Ivory says, no matter what, or you die.
See what I mean? Prisoners.
Joy glances around, eyes darting to the top of our staircase. “We ready?”
She doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before she’s going for the door and we’re following her.
“Nice out today,” Hancock chirps while we all pile into the SUV. His voice is extra raspy, as if he just woke up, which is probably accurate.
“What difference does it make?” Jasper grumbles.
Hancock rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, it’ll be nice to get out in the city tonight without bundling our asses up.”
The rest of us stay silent, no response to his blathering.He’s used to it.
Hancock will talk until he’s blue in the face.He doesn’t need active participation for conversation to work.
But before he can keep spouting off nonsense, Velle comes storming out of the mansion, jumping into the driver’s seat. He’s so big, the vehicle jostles when he gets in.
“Let’s do this, bitches,” he grunts, starting it up and driving us toward the prison.
The ride is short, and I’m in my head the whole time, as usual. Thinking about the last time I saw my wife… It’s been a couple of weeks at this point. I don’t always go home if I know I’ll be seeing her on an upcoming purge.
Outside of that, though, I’ve been coming up with more and more excusesnotto go home lately. Which is crazy because I’m sure most of my colleagues would kill to leave on a weekly basis, regardless of how they felt about their relationship.
But for me, it’s definitely not that simple. And what no one else knows is that the last few times I wenthometo see my wife, I didn’t quite… make it.
Staring out the window, I’m quiet and still on the outside. But within me is a storm. Harsh winds and rain and thunder, rumbling me down to my foundation. The angst of the unknown sits like a hundred pounds of weight on my shoulders while my mind whirls around a memory, of a purge from two years ago.
The first time I saw Dascha Reznikov…
On a purge, two years ago. I was at home with my wife… when a newspaper article, and more specifically, a picture, caught my attention.
Dascha Reznikov, 23, was released yesterday from the seventy-seventh precinct in Brooklyn after insufficient evidence was found to tie the Kings County resident to a string of local robberies…
He’s just so… pretty. Not in a slender, androgynous kind of way. He’s very masculine. But there’s something about him that just looks… sweet. Dangerous, but highly tempting.
This man, though… He’s way too beautiful to be in prison.
My mind is running away as I read the article again and again, all the while with Dascha Reznikov’s surly scowl aimed up at my face. I run my thumb over the picture and shift in my seat.
God, he’s hot. Sososexy…
Snapping my eyes shut, I shake my head.Stop it. We’re not doing this right now. We arenotgetting swept up in this guy. This potential criminal…
The Brooklyn boy with the perfect lips…
But I wish I could take him with me.
Snatching up the paper, I tear out the article with his mugshot, folding it up and tucking it away in my pocket. Then I leave the house, heading back to purgatory.
Someday…
