I spanked his ass after that. Satisfying, watching him cry. He had a good ass, at least, and enjoyed the spankings more than I'd have liked.
Maybe I'm a bit of a psycho too.
When I reach Griff's office, I knock, then stand straight. Hands behind my back, eyes down. Griff respects formality. Show up late or sloppy, and you run drills till you puke. He'sdone that to me more than once, especially when I was a rookie. They break rookies hard here.
But I respect the man. He works harder than we deserve. Sixty kids, and he knows every name, every file, every family history. That's his job, sure, but he could be doing much less. He knows I don't like being called by my last name, and he makes sure the staff respect that. Good man, even when he's terrifying.
"Come in," Griff calls. Early fifties, gray hair clipped short, green eyes, nose crooked from at least two MMA breaks, faded military tattoos. He doesn't look up right away. His way of making me sweat.
"Sit, Ethan," he says, setting his iPad down. "You got your assignment."
"Yes, sir. I reviewed the file."
He slides the tablet toward me, taps the screen. Liam's photo again, even better on the bigger display.
I keep my face neutral. "Thoughts?"
"Just another kid, sir." Even if I had concerns, I wouldn't voice them. I don't bitch or melt down like some of the other leaders. I keep my mouth shut and handle it.
"You understand the structure. His infractions become your infractions. If Liam can't adjust, it reflects on you."
"Yes, sir. I'll make sure he toes the line."
Griff's mouth quirks. "That's what I want to hear. You won't do it alone. I'll help you too."
He stands. Meeting over. I follow him out. "First twenty-four hours are the most important," he says. "Set boundaries, establish trust. He steps out of line, figure it out."
"Yes, sir."
He'd better believe I will.
That's how Aspire works. You fuck up, you pay. Staff have their methods. Push-ups until your arms give out, planks,holding heavy books, running laps, anything their sadistic minds can think of. The boring kind too: staring at walls, writing lines. And the worst, the hole. Solitary. That one breaks people.
Corporal punishment isn't official. But leaders handle it. Belt to ass, traditional. It happened to me. Happens to everybody. And now, on this side of it… yeah. It gives me satisfaction. A thrill. The control, the submission, the tremble in their muscles. Makes me hard, most times.
Everyone pretends not to notice. Staff look the other way. It's just how things work.
When I reach the admin hallway, Liam's still being processed. I watch him through the glass.
He's in uniform. Sweats a half size too big, black sweatshirt with the logo over the heart. And he's smiling. Actually smiling, the little fucker.
Up close, worse than the photo. Straight black hair razored short on the sides and long on top, fringe over his forehead. Eyes bright blue. He doesn't look scared.
Why doesn't he look scared?
A tattoo curls from under his collar up his neck, ending next to his ear, a geometric, diamond pattern. He has this twitchy, restless energy. Bounces his leg, checks the clock, taps something. In two minutes, he moves more than I have all day. He flashes a grin at one of the staff. Like he hasn't just been admitted to this hole. And, heishandsome.
I clamp down on the thought and crush it.
This one is going to be hell.
Chapter 3. Liam
We are all silent as we step into the dorm building, and, suddenly, I feel like I’m gonna hurl. I didn’t feel this sick even when the judge laid down my sentence. Probably everything is just hitting me all at once, plus it’s been ages since my last smoke, and I really need to chill.
The dorms are pretty much like jail. There’s this common room with couches and some tables, but it’s all caged up with bars on the doors, very useful so they can lock us in quickly if needed. Upstairs, it’s just halls lined with more doors. Each door leads to what is basically a cell, a super cramped room with a tiny, barred window and thick glass so we can't smash it, two bunk beds against the walls, and a single bed under the window. The door has a little window too, so no privacy, and they obviously lock from the outside. Thank God there isn't a toilet in there; that would be gross, it’s too cramped for that. Bathrooms are communal, down the hall.
"Welcome, and I hope you feel at home soon," Griff says, still all nice, and I just want to puke.
