Page 42 of Pen Me

Voices and chaos sounded in the hallway.

“Sorry, Sammy,” I whispered, if only to taste her name.

I grunted and my face ached with the smallest of smiles. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t get to stare into your eyes and tell you how beautiful you are.”

I clung to those pictures of her, conjuring them so I had something to focus on instead of the shock and awe my body was reeling from.

I lost consciousness. I’d no idea for how long. My neck ached something fierce, but I didn’t know if it was from one of the blows, or the way I’d passed out, with my head tipped back awkwardly.

I opened my eyes and was surprised to find the floor fairly clean. There were no pools of blood, only some splatter, and even that was surprisingly minimal.

“What's the update?”

I sucked in a startled breath, at the abrupt sound and how close it was.

“Contained,” a voice sounded back, just as the door was tested.

“Is there any reason the PC Shower room is locked?”

Silence.

“H–” The word died on my lips.

If I announced myself, I might be killed in a hurry to keep me from reporting the incident. If the guards had to come back and clean up without cause to kill me, I might have time to buy room to wiggle? How the fuck did you come back from this?

There was no coming back from this, my brain screamed.

I was a weak link for the correctional officers. They had as much reason to want me gone as the Irish now, simply to cover their own asses.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. I had the most impressive shiner of my life, and there was some pink tissue glistening around the blood on the underside of my chin.

I looked around for the pipe, and realized I’d never heard it hit the ground. The reality that I’d probably been assaulted with the same damn tool that took Vince’s life left me sweating in the restraints as I heard a key being tested.

“I did that to contain the area,” Larissa sounded over the radio.

I was so shocked by her betrayal I didn’t recognize my own expression in the mirror. I quickly fixed my face and decided to stay quiet.

The lack of certainty and faith in my own decisions was making me physically sick.

“Update,” I heard again, a few minutes later from a more distant radio.

“Ridgeway is down, Tucker is down, three inmates are down. We have multiple EMS en route, stand by.”

“Copy,” a male voice returned, and the beeping grew distant again. “The next time I hear the word ‘contained,’ let’s make sure it is, in fact, contained. Shall we?”

The authority in his voice made my heart race. Only a white shirt would scold another officer like that.

“Help. Fucking help me. I need an ambulance. Help!” I started screaming for all I was worth.

“What the fuck–?” the voice boomed, and a rapid jangle of keys began outside the door.

“They hit me with the pipe. That pipe they got Vince with. Help!” I screamed until my throat was scratchy.

“Jesus H. Christ.” The door sounded with a thud and more keys jangled. “Porter, get your ass down here now! PC Shower room, bring whoever you can.”

My headache waned and sparked in time with the alarm outside, making me wince at times as I closed my eyes against the unknown.

The door finally gave an ancient whine as it moved, and I snapped my eyes open on instinct. My gaze locked with the white shirt and his jaw fell.

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