Page 5 of Fragments
Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I flop onto my side, yanking my pillow over my head.
“Stop squirming. Just take it…”
Muffled grunting and groaning still assaults my ears, framed by the incessant creaking of a rickety bunk bed. My teeth grind together.
“I’m gonna bust… Fuck, I’m gonna…comein you.”
Whipping the pillow off, I shoot up in my bunk and roar, “Shut the fuck up in there! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
The obvious sounds of Cooper, my next-cell neighbor, having an orgasm, trail off into some grumbled curses. Then he shouts, “Sorry, Luth! I thought you were already out…”
“It’s barely nine o’clock…” another voice mutters.
It’s Simmons.No surprise there.They’re cellmates. And despite the fact that he didn’t sound too keen on being fucked when they started this rendezvous that’s currently disturbing my beauty sleep, Simmons is now just raggedly conversing with his rapist, which has me scoffing and shaking my head.
This place, man.
“That don’t matter,” Cooper grunts to his roomie-slash-reluctant-fuck-buddy, hoarse and now audibly up and moving around. “It’s about respect, bitch. Next time I push in that hole after lights out, you need to be a little more quiet. ForLuthor. Got it?”
I hear a smack, and a groan.This is entirely too much.
“You were the one talking!” Simmons growls. “I couldn’t even breathe. Your whole fucking fist was in my mouth…”
“Guys…please,” I grumble-cry. Real petulant, whiny shit.
But these dudes aren’t new. Everyone knows the rules on this end of the row:
Luthor loves to sleep, so shut the fuck up after lights out.
“Shhh! Shut that pouty li’l mouth,” Cooper scolds Simmons in a whisper.
Truthfully, it’s not their fault. I can usually sleep through the noise… Or at least, if I’malreadyasleep, I can. But tonight, I’m having trouble drifting off.
I always know why…But I don’t want to think about it.
Now that Cooper has completed his aggressive exploration of Simmons’s nether regions, the loud noises have stopped, and I can let out a breath of relief. Sure, there’s stillnoise. There always is. But it’s off in the distance, not next door. I can work with that.
My eyelids are finally beginning to droop, when a familiar voice yelps up the row. And they spring back open.
Fucking motherfuck.
I’m gonna be exhausted tomorrow, thanks to him.
I roll my eyes, flopping around on the top bunk, in the cell I’ve had to myself for the last few months. My frustrated gaze sets on the concrete wall beside my bed, and I just stare.
Listening…
Not actively trying to block it out, like I was with dumb and dumber next door.
I recognize it so well,thissound. Every dip and hitch and cadence… Shuddering breaths, raspy groans, jagged sobs. I’ve been listening to them like a soundtrack for years. I’ve come to expect them.
Sometimes I hear my name. And I refuse to admit it, but more often than not, I hope to hear it.
Slamming my eyes shut, I shake that thought away.No… I don’t want to hear my name from his lips while he’s doing what he does.
I don’tcarewhat’s happening just up the row, in that cell I won’t set foot in again. It’s just another thing I have no control over; something I have to grin and bear, living where I do…
In Alabaster Penitentiary.
