Page 193 of Fragments
The connection turned into more than just physical. They make each other better.
I wish I knew what that was like…
“So… athrouple, huh?” Lex sighs by my side as we leave the cafeteria.
“Yea…”
A throuple of badass motherfuckers.
But my body is rejecting this. Like withdrawals from years of hard drug use.
I’ve been antsier than ever these past couple of months. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat—if I’m even able to fall asleep at all. I’ve chewed all my fingernails down to the skin, and my balls have been aching for so long, I’ve almost gotten used to the dull throb that now lives in my lower stomach.
This shit is real, man. Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about detoxing from casual sex?? We need to spread awareness! Work on a cure or something…
All in all, I think I’m doing well. But it doesn’tfeellike it. Every minute of every day, I feel like I’m on the verge of making a terrible mistake. And when your default is to give in effortlessly to temptation, that little voice in the back of your head starts to sound like it’s screaming.
Burn…
You don’t need this stress.
They just don’t understand you.
They’re jealous of your lifestyle, because they want what you have.
Burn…
This is who you are.
You’re the bad guy, Warren…
Burn it all to thefuckingground.
“Fuck,” I grunt, ripping my hair in my fists.
I swear to God, I’d love a cigarette right now. If I had more than that one goddamn match that I’m saving.
Ugh.
Today feels like it’s been happening for days. I haven’t left my cell since dinner last night, and not that I know what time it is, but my body can tell it’s well into the afternoon. I’m anxious as fuck, withnothingavailable to distract me. Velle promised he would get me some stuff back, now that he’s apparently running the show around here. But he has to do it discreetly, I guess, since he’s trying to tread lightly with the Warden.
I still don’t really understand what happened. No one has seen Manuel Blanco in weeks, and Velle has a noticeable bounce in his step. He, Joy and Rook are leading the pack, and even though we’re technically still onlockdown, it feels like they’re rebuilding a little, after the drama the double Ds caused.
Darcey and Dash.
You’d think that would mean I could get a damn notebook and pencil, or my freaking tattoo gun back. But I suppose my needs aren’t as important to the guards now that I’ve stopped bending over for them.
I’m trying to get myself Zen by bending over in adifferentcapacity—doing yoga in my cell—when I hear a door open. I ignore it at first, expecting the sounds of more guards gathering inmates to finally go somewhere. But instead, my bars open.
“Lookin’ good.” A rumbly voice I know well comes from behind me, and I peer through my legs.
It’s Jasper. He’s inside my cell, leaning up against the door with his arms folded over his wide chest.
Namaste, asshole.
Straightening, I turn and lift a brow. “About time. I’m starving.”
I wander over with my wrists out, waiting for him to cuff me. But he doesn’t.
