I’m losing my shit.
Knowing he’ll be here soon is binding me in fear that also feels… like excitement. My heart is pounding at the notion of seeing him in real life. I’m terrified, mostly of how curious I am. Howeager…
It’s real bad.
I’m wondering what he’ll look like, what he’ll smell like and sound like.
Fuck, I’m desperate to hear his voice…
It’s unreasonable to crave listening to someone speak. Especially because Idon’tfuckingknowthis kid. He’s not some person I’ve been talking to online that I’m finally going to meet.He’s a goddamn stranger, and most importantly, he’s acriminal. Hedeservesto be in prison.
Those are the rules. You break the law, you go to jail. And even though I didn’t end up becoming a cop, I still believe in it. Protect and serve. Keeping people safe.
I’m supposed to keep people safefromDash, not obsess over keepinghimsafe.
I need to… keep him safe. In here.
Who knows if Dash even likes guys? For all I know, he could be straight…Like I’m supposed to be.
But it’s not about that. I’mnotthinking about ways to be with the kid.Whether he’d be interested or not is… irrelevant. Because I’m married, and he’s… just a prisoner.
Shaking my head, I focus on the way my heart is rapping. The way I feel…alive.
I’ve never fucking felt this before. It’s bizarre. I both hate it and love it at the same time.
Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe I won’t even see Dascha much…
I work in solitary, after all. Maybe he’ll… never even come down here.
I scoff to myself.Yea, right.He seems like a troublemaker. He’ll probably be down here all the goddamn time.
Which means I have to make a choice. Because it is painfully clear to me right now…
Iwon’tbe able to do this. Deliver him food, bring him toshower… Watch him rot and ignore his cries without intervening.
It’s like Peters said… We can’t get emotionally invested.
And I’veneverbeen more invested than I am right fucking now.
I’m so far past emotionally invested, we’re in different time-zones.
Over an hour seems to pass in an instant, and the next thing I know every muscle in my body is bunching when Velle barks at us over the walkie to get back up to the big room for intake.
I’m hanging on by a thread as I walk, like I’m marching myself along the Green goddamn Mile.
Outside of the room, I pause to take a breath, squeezing my eyes shut tight.
“Ready?”
The voice startles me, and I jump, whipping around fast.
Manuel Blanco is smirking at me, holding something in his hand. My eyes fall from the pools of obsidian in his eyes to the black object he’s holding.
My brow jump. “Why…?”
He shakes his head admonishingly. “You should know better than to ask that by now, Officer.”
He shoves the clippers at me and murmurs by my ear, “You’re welcome.”
