Page 2 of Brainwashed
“Fuck you, Timmy!” he snarled as the officer cuffed him, thrashing about in his hold. “You made me do it!”
I had no idea whoTimmywas, but judging by the confused look on the face of the inmate he’d just been attacking, it wasn’t him.
My curiosity was piqued. All the other inmates who’d jumped up were trying to get tome, while this pale, black-haired guy with a discernible Irish accent was just trying to get toanyone.
As the guard dragged him past me toward the exit of the cafeteria, I assumed to throw him in solitary, his eyes met mine.
Time slowed down. The color of his irises, murky green like a swamp, beckoned to me as I held my breath.
And then he whispered, in a hushed and jagged tone, “I’m nothing like you.”
My heart jumped. It leapt behind my ribcage, and my face turned to watch him being carted out of the room, all the while swarmed with thoughts. The intensity happening in my head was thick, transporting me back to a time and place far from this one.
I’m doing this for you.
I blinked heavily, shaking myself out of it when I realized I was still in the cafeteria at Alabaster, and the good-looking blonde guard with the dark blue eyes was speaking to me.
I focused on how straight and white his teeth were as he spoke.
I’m nothing like you.
Why would the Irishman say that? Did he want me to know something about himself?
Was he telling me his truth, there in the stale-smelling room surrounded by noise?
And even after I snapped back into reality, and finally responded to the guard who gave me food and helped me eat it at a table by myself, I couldn’t stop thinking about those words, and the man they came from.
The way his face moved as he spoke to me. The curves and lines of it… So intriguing.
After that, I spent much of my time wondering what he’d done. Why he felt that he wasnothing like me…
Was he right?
Many events of my life have led me to believe that there’s a reason for all of it. Each and every step we take carves out our destiny. Purpose is given, adjusted, and instilled. We’re guided intoeverythingwe do by the chaos of the universe.
Months later, I was planted in an exam room right next to Kieran O’Malley.
Weeks after that, I was given the keys to his cell.
That was when thefunbegan.
Five minutes…
My lashes flutter. Like the wings of the monarch butterfly I saw that afternoon in the park. It moved quick, yet so gracefully. I watched it flit about right before he stepped out of the coffee shop.
My eyes want to open, but I force them to stay closed. To keep me in my thoughts.Fight it…Fight waking up to the truth. The reality of my situation.
The human body stays alive for five minutes after strangulation. Meaning, if you’re a fighter, your body can overpower the desire to go to sleep forever.
Hewas a fighter.
A loud bang comes from up the hall, a sound I’ve come to know over the last few months as the door. Everything in this prison is so loud. The clanks and clunks of metal slamming, doors locking, giant guards trudging around, on a permanent mission to keep us prisoners unsettled. Even the keys are loud, jingling and clashing, like an alarm that goes off at random times. You can’t even get used to it.
The keys I hear today, however, are especially persistent. As are the footsteps… And the unmistakable sound of shuffling, which could mean only one thing…
My eyes shoot open. My head shifts and I glance toward the door to my cell from where I’m lying on the bottom bed of my bunk. Sure enough, there’s Officer Chevelle, also known asVelle… My bestie.
Just kidding.I don’t think he likes many people, but I’m probably pretty low on his list of pals.
