“Okay.” I kiss the back of his head. “It’s eighty-nine.”
His cries turn his voice to a mumble, so I tilt my head to hear him. “No, she’s good. She loved me.” He pauses like he’s talking to someone then responds in the same manner. “She did. I’m sorry, Asher, I’m sorry, but she loved me.”
At this point in my life, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe in ghosts. If there was one vindictive spirit who would refuse to allow anyone peace, it would be Asher. I try to banish him as I softly say, “He’s dead, Kane. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
I nearly get smacked in the face as he quickly sits up, shaking his head. “No, he stops them.”
“Stops who?”
“Eighty-nine!” he screams, swiping at his arms and legs, like he’s trying to get something off his skin.
“Kane, breathe. There’s no one here, it’s just me and you.”
The erratic movements are going to make him fall. I hold my hands out flat, but he pushes back as I soften my voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. Put your hands on mine.”
“Delilah,” he breathes out through his tears. “Yeah, Delilah.”
“And you’re Kane. Can you put your hands on mine?”
His arms quake as he lifts them, lining his hands up against mine, leaving an inch gap as he talks to himself, “Eighty-nine. Delilah’s here.”
NINETY
KANE* - 19 YEARS OLD
Eighty-nine days are a blessing. Day ninety is the reckoning Kane has learnt after seven months in solitary confinement as he rocks in the corner of the cell singing, “Eighty-nine.” It’s partially a wish. One which won’t come true, but it doesn’t deter him from trying to change the date as he continues singing, “Eighty-nine.”
His repetitions get faster, so does the rocking. He can rock, sing, hurt himself—nothing will stop what’s to come.
When the door opens—the light breaching the desolate box burning his eyes—his singing turns to screams of anguish before anyone steps inside.
The screams subside when he notices the new guard laughing. They always laugh at him, yet this one has his attention as they throw him a pair of grey coveralls. “Get dressed or I’ll walk you out in your diaper.”
He snatches the stiff material off the floor and quickly covers himself, eager to step into the light that stops the monsters entering him. When he does, he’s faced with themocking taunts of the guards as he silently begs,Asher, help me.He quickly brings his shoulders together as the guards bracket him, their keys jangling through the prison while they continue their taunts.
“Do you think the diaper is a fetish?” the one on his right asks.
“No idea,” the left answers, leaning into him. “Is that what gets your cock hard?”
“He can’t hear you. He’s one of the crazies. You know what they’re like.” The other shakes their head, voice turning high-pitched. “The voices! The voices are all I can hear!”
They both laugh at him when he’s spent every moment of his life before prison being invisible. As a child, Asher took his name away. As an adult, he’s done the same thing. He’s no longer Kane, not that he was ever really allowed the opportunity to find out who Kane was. Now it’s worse. He’s no longer not-Asher, he’s a number. An inmate. A chomo. A sicko in a diaper.
He smiles to himself, becoming giddy as he’s led to a private visitor’s room. He tells Asher, “Mom and Dad are here. Eighty-nine. Mom and Dad. Not ninety, eighty-nine.”
“Oh, he’s not going to last long,” the guard on his right says. “He’ll need to go on watch soon.”
“Let him.” The left laughs, jangling the keys to make Kane flinch at the loud noise. “I’ve got him on my list, and I want the weekend off.”
Kane keeps telling himself it’s the eighty-ninth day as the guards discuss the league they created for the inmates in solitary confinement, commiserating over their loss when a newer guard saved an inmate after their suicide attempt. But he stops in front of the table in the private visiting room, blinking when his parents aren’t sitting on the other side. Nor is his lawyer.
It’s a new person, one he faintly recognizes as the man stands, smiling. “Missed me, kid?”
“Niko?”
The man, Niko, nods as he narrows his steel-blue eyes at the guards. “Get him a glass of water.” The guards leave and he gestures to the seat. “Sit down, we don’t have long, your lawyer is waiting for you.”
Kane slowly lowers into the seat opposite his friend, relaxing despite the way pain shoots up his spine from the pressure. The diaper is padded but it doesn’t stop him feeling the ache of the stitches after the last guards beat him, ripping them open. Niko kept him out of solitary confinement, and he was the first person who asked him his name.
