Page 26 of Enemy of the State

“You’re saying that you aren’t guilty of terrorism, murder, kidnapping, possession of biological weapons, destruction of government property, at least ten different cyber-crimes, espionage, and arson?”

Jeesus Kristus.With my face a mask of cool aloofness, I briefly sort through what he’s said. Murder and possession of more than a couple of biological weapons over the years are a definite check. The various cybercrimes and espionage are also a yes. Whatisn’ta yes is terrorism, arson, kidnapping, or the destruction of government property. I did none of those things. It’s not my style.

My brother, on the other hand? Yeah, he’s guilty of all of that.

Sean

I’ve been unpacking and analyzing my encounter with Lou since we parted ways, but the thing I keep coming back to is the look she gave me when tied to that cross. Her eyes challenged me to do my worst, and although I resisted the temptation—barely—Iwantedto do all kinds of fucked-up things to her. I craved her screams, her body writhing beneath my cruel touch. I wanted to see if she’d succumb to pleasure or feel only pain.

I’d never played with an inmate like that before, and I swear it started out innocently. An experiment, if you will. I wanted to see if it was being naked against her will that upset her in the infirmary, but once I got my answer, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t resist tasting her bloody skin. The reality was even better than anything I could imagine, too.

Alone on the roof, I pull the cigarettes from my pants pocket, having come straight here after storming out of the playpen: irritated, unsatisfied, frustrated, and harder than the rocks on the steep, stony cliff far below me. Yanking my mask off my head, I stare at the fabric in my hand, still pissed at myself for lifting my mask in front of Lou. I’ve never done that in front of a detainee, ever. I can simply add it to the ever-growing list of shit I’ve done with her that I shouldn’t have.

What is it about this inmate that has me tossing all my rules out the goddamn window? I’m not this reckless guy, that’s not me.

Risky madness aside, I don’t know why I’m worried, considering she, nor any of the other prisoners, will be walking out the front door again. Once you come to Ex-I, you don’t have the privilege of leaving. This is home until you find yourself with a dirt dwelling six feet underground. They’re all “lifers” here, the only variable being how long that life in question lasts.

Lighting the cigarette, I inhale, slumping down in the chair so that my head rests against the back. The sun is high in the sky, relentlessly beating down on the rooftop, but I make no effort to shield my face. I hate being cooped up in the concrete prison, so I soak up every ounce of sunshine I can. Besides, it seems to be the only source of true light in my life these days.

Lou’s distracting me. She’s pulling my attention away from what’s important and that’s getting the information we need to protect our national security and innocent citizens. I need to recenter my focus. But the dark part of me wonders why I can’t have my cake and eat it too.Why can’t I siphon information from her by poking the naked beast?

Luckily, I caught the surprise that bolted through her dark chocolate irises like lightning when she learned of her various charges. I don’t know what to make of that yet, but it was there. Maybe I can capitalize on that.

Like a rubber band snapping against my skin, my slice of isolated bliss is cut short when Davis swings open the door. “You have a video call. Computer’s been flashing with that annoying-ass notification chirp for a while.”

Cursing, I get to my feet, putting out the cigarette. I forgot all about the call I had scheduled with my mom for this afternoon, and I’m sure she’s panicking now that I’ve missed it.

My mask dangling from my fingertips, I follow Davis back down to the barracks. He disappears, probably to get ready for the pokergame we’ve got in a few hours, but I’ve still got half a day’s worth of work before then, which is why I wanted to sneak in a few minutes of solitude.

I sink down in front of the computer and wait as the chat connects. Taking a sip of my water, I wonder if she’ll be able to smell the cigarette smoke on my breath through the computer. She’s got one of thosemom intuitionsthat seems to go off when I’m hiding something. You’d think I would’ve aged out of that by my early thirties, but no such luck. She’ll kick my ass if she discovers I was smoking “cancer in a cardboard package,” as she refers to them. Logically, I know she’s right, but there’s not much to take the edge off around here. I only smoked on the rare occasion before Lou blew into my life like a summer tempest, sudden and destructive.

“Hi, honey,” my mother says with a warm smile when it finally somewhat connects. Service on this damn island sucks and the barracks are the only place you can get a spotty internet connection.The guys on patrol still communicate through old school walkie-talkies.

“Hey, Mom. Sorry I missed you earlier.” I swallow past the dryness clogging my throat and plaster a fake-as-fuck smile on my face that hopefully conveys that everything is fine. Though, that couldn’t be further from the truth. At this point, I’d be lucky if she learned I was smoking a cigarette. That’s the least of my indiscretions.

I haven’t even stopped to let myself think about Stuco’s death. It’s going to hit me at some point, though. He was one of the newer guys here, but I liked him, and we got along. His death has everyone on edge. As a result, I’ve tightened security, doubled down on protocol, and requested additional manpower, which, I’m sure, will get denied.

Maybe this place has graduated from the first circle of hell to the second.

I must not excel in selling the expression I wear because my mom’s brow furrows as she asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mom. I’m just…busy. How are things at home?”

She hesitates at my obvious deflection, but answers me anyway. “Things are great. Callie and her kids will be here for Christmas in a few weeks. What about you?”

“I don’t think I’ll get the time off, but I’ll let you know.” I hate disappointing her and that’s the only reason I left that thread of hope hanging loose. I know I won’t be at Christmas. Even if I did find a way to go, I’m not going to sit around that table while everyone talks about the past year and whatever they’re grateful for. What would I even say other thanI’m grateful for a family that loves me? It wouldn’t even be true since they don’t even know that I’m undeserving of that love, and if they did discover the inner workings of my mind, they’d stop loving me.

I ask her some questions about what desserts she plans to make for Christmas dinner and whether Jace’s mom will join them—she is—and I’m about to jump off the call when she asks softly,“Sean, will you tell me what’s wrong? Talk to me,please, honey.”

My mom is a good mom, and I’m damn lucky she’s mine, but that luck only goes one way. Something must’ve gone wrong in my brain at some point. It’s not her fault I’m this way. My sister is proof of that. She’s everything good and pure, everything I’m not.

Feeling unworthy of the depths of my mother’s kindness and love, I close my eyes for a beat. I can’t tell her the truth, even if I wanted to. I can’t tell my mom about my job, about the death on my hands, or the woman who’s weaseled her way into my bloodstream like an infectious disease.

Part of me thinks there’s no point in even telling my mother about Lou. Especially since I’ve made an effort to convince myself that my fixation is simply due to the fact that Lou’s an anomaly. I’m sure I’d be equally as wound up about any other seemingly shatter-proof inmate.

The more logical part of me has me internally rolling my eyes at my own ignorance. Lou’s becoming more than just another inmate, no matter how much I try to persuade myself otherwise. Atbest, she’s a curiosity, a toy I enjoy playing with. At worst, she’s an incurable, all-consuming obsession I’ll be reluctant to let go of.

Sick of all the deceptions I end up throwing at my mom on a regular basis, I decide to tell her the truth for once, at least the part of the truth I can.

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