It’s not good. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been in psychosis in the last year, since I started taking my meds more consistently and seeing a shrink. But times of high stress have the potential to trigger me, medication or not, and the way these thoughts are becoming louder and louder inside my skull is reminiscent of uglier times.
The fact is, we haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone on Alabaster Isle in weeks. And even before the radio silence, things weren’t exactly goingwellover there. Last we’d heard, the Warden had brought in a team of new guards—cartel men, hired as a giant middle finger to Velle and his team.
Joy told us they were basically demoted. The Ivory’s guys had taken over everything, which really sucked because things had actually been looking up prior to that.
I think maybe we were all a bit naive in assuming Manuel Blanco would stay quiet, after everything that happened, the blowout with Velle in particular. Kemper told me that The Ivory views them all as his property, but no one more than John Chevelle. As far as Manuel Blanco is concerned, Velle belongs at his feet. Hispetstanding up and sayingfuck youto his master while usurping control of the Pen for himself clearly didn’t sit well with the Warden.
Joy insisted that they’d been planning for this; an inevitable retaliation from The Ivory. But the last time Kemper spoke to her, she told us he’d kicked them out of the mansion.
Fucking evicted, literally. They were now homeless, on an island in the middle of nowhere, no less.
It’s completely fucked up, but even more so because we haven’t been able to reach her since.None of them…
Kemper’s tried Joy’s phone dozens of times. Peters, Hancock, Jasper, even Velle… He can’t get ahold ofanyone. All of their phones are either disconnected or going straight to voicemail.
And then there was the storm.
We didn’t heard about it until about a week later, but apparently there’d been this awful storm that hit the east coast right around the time they started ghosting. I’m not sure what it means, but I’m convinced it’s not good.
I just can’t shake the feeling that something bad happened. I’ve been fighting it off as best I can, trying hard to be in the moment, here, and justlive.
We had a great Valentine’s Day, made some new friends, partied like the goddamn heathens that we are. But now that it’s over, I have nothing to hide behind. All of my worries are at the forefront once more.
They’re in trouble. They need us.
Shuffling back in from our walk, Dog is scampering around me, but I’m distracted as shit. He’s barking and I’m yanking my hair in my fists.
“Sobaka, tishina,” I grumble. “I’m trying to think here.”
I can see in my peripheral that he’s stopped running around me. Glancing up, I find him sitting up straight in place, like he does when he’s waiting for his food, or a treat.
I can’t help but chuckle. “You wanna help Daddy, huh?”
He barks.
“Okay…” I fold my arms over my chest. “Well, what’s your advice, smart guy?”
He tilts his head.
“I’m worried about our friends. I mean, shit, I haven’t talked to Luthor, Ren, or Byron in fuckingmonths.”
Sobaka whines and lies down with his chin on the floor.
“I know, right??” I begin pacing again. “And I know it’s because the new guards are there… Joy wouldn’t say it outright, but I think they split them all up. Which sucks ass on its own. Luthor and Ren being split up is fucked. Byron too?? That’s a low fuckin blow…”
This time, Dog isn’t chasing me. He’s just watching me strut back and forth. Listening intently, as he does.
“And to top it all off, now we can’t reach Joy either!” I scrub a hand over my face. “Her phone is like, disconnected or something. After astorm?? With The Ivory all pissed off andkicking them out of their home?! I don’t know what to do, but I feel awful, and I can’t just sit around here, in goddamn paradise, all happy with the love of my life while the people I care about are potentially hurt or struggling.”
Finally, I stop to take a much-needed breath. Peeking down at him, I ask sincerely, “So, what do you think? What should I… do?”
Sobaka whimpers again, then stands up, slinking over to me. He butts his head against my hand, rubbing himself on my legs. I pout, scratching behind his ears.
“I think you’re right, kid,” I tell him softly. “It’s the only option…”
“Fiancé? Fur son??” Kemper hollers from the front door as he returns from wherever he was.
Honestly, I’ve been so distracted, I completely forgot where he said he was going today.
