Page 153 of Shadowman
“You really don’t understand how prison works, do you?” I grumble. “The whole point of the hole was anonymity. Obviously, he knew whose mouth it was, and I knew whose dick it was, but we were pretending we didn’t.”
He blinks at me, eyes rounded in fascination that’s heating my cheeks something fierce. “Like a glory hole?”
My head falls back as I groan, “Yes… Like a glory hole.”
“That’s wicked.” He claps his hands together in excitement. “Is that why you insisted that I not use your name when we—”
“Please, God, stop talking,” I grunt, finally slinking back down to my own bed, mainly to hide my obviously flushing face.
Of course, he doesn’t let up.
Trevel’s head swoops over the edge of the bunk, and he continues his pestering upside down. “Was O’Malley bi?”
I shrug petulantly. “How would I know?? He insisted he wasn’t, but who can tell around here? It’s hard to differentiate between those of us who were already questioning things, and those who are really just bored as fuck, passing time with whatever hole is closest.” I remember what Luthor used to always say… “Lines get blurry in here.”
Trevel is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Did you and O’Malley ever…” I glance at his upside-down face, much more serious than a moment ago. “Go further? Than just the mattress glory hole?”
I shake my head vehemently. “If we had, it’d definitely be in the book.” Trevel looks relieved, and it does something weird to my gut that I choose to ignore. “O’Malley was a complicated dude. He had a lot of issues.”
“Don’t we all,” he huffs.
“I mean, like, undiagnosed mental problems,” I add. “He used to fly off the handle at practically nothing. Had nightterrors… He’d scream and throw fits in his sleep, and it was impossible to wake him.” I can’t help but scoff at the memory. “I could beat the shit out of him in his sleep, and he’d just keep freaking out, totally unconscious.”
“Wow. That’s… bonkers.”
“I know, right?”
“No, it’s bonkers that you’ve now wound up with two flatmates who suffer from trauma-related night terrors.”
My brows zip. “What?”
“Yea,” he chuckles. “I have night terrors myself. They’re not always that… aggressive. Sometimes, I find myself seeking comfort…” He pauses to bite his lip, face taking on some vulnerability. “Other times, it’s a bit scarier.”
Wait… is that why he keeps coming into my bed at night?
Why I keep waking up with him… next to me?
The curiosity is back, only this time it’s paired with empathy. “Is it because of… something from your past?”
He breathes out, “It would certainly appear so.”
I know I said I didn’t need anything from him in return for my sharing, but I do kind of want it. I’m extremely intrigued by him, and I want to know more.
“I’m… rather fucked up.” He swallows visibly.
Before I can ask him if he wants to tell me about it, he vanishes, pulling himself back up to his bunk. Shutting it down.
Whatever he’s been through must’ve been painful…
Something he doesn’t want getting out.
We stop talking for a while after that, until the lights go off in the row. I know he’s not asleep, though, because I can still feel him moving around up there.
Eventually, I curl up and close my eyes, attempting to get some rest. But his smooth, raspy voice, with that accent I’m beginning to rely on for comfort, comes back. And he speaks into the dark…
“Deep inside. Locked up tight… Far beyond the realm of fright.
Past the past, and dark of night… Farther down than seeker’s sight,
