Page 84 of Shadowman
“You new?” he asked, casually interested. Not prying or trying to size me up. Just… asking.
I nodded. “Name’s Kang. You?”
“Lex,” he sniffed. “But everyone here calls me Luthor.”
“That’s cool,” I said, bored. But not because of him. I just… had nothing left to feel. “What number are you?”
“35,” he hummed.
“Shit…” I breathed. “That sounds like… a while ago.”
He sighed tiredly. “Yea. It was.”
“Sorry,” I muttered remorsefully. “That was a dick thing to say.”
“No, it’s fine.” He grew a tiny curl to his lips. “Honestly, I appreciate having someone around. My friends are… Well, they’re not here.”
I lifted a brow. “Friends…? As in, other inmates?”
He nodded. “Yea. Usually, we’re all together, but lately, we haven’t been, and it’s just… I don’t know, it feels even more isolating than normal.” He peered at me. “I don’t know why I’m saying this to you… Probably freaking you out more. My bad.”
“I don’t mind.” I shrugged. “I’m used to being alone.”
Picking up my sandwich, I took a bite while Luthor watched me, smirking. As soon as the food touched my tongue, I spit it out.
“Ugh! Gross.” I spit more, trying to get the foul taste out of my mouth.
Luthor was chuckling up a storm, like it was the funniest thing ever. I grimaced while pulling apart the sandwich, only to find mold all over the cheese.
“Hey.” He sighed out his laughter. “Maybe we can be alone together, huh?”
Like the girl with the auburn hair.
Yea…I thought, hopefully. Alone together sounds pretty good.
When I returned to my cell after lunch, I found a small, rectangular object on my bed, with a card taped to the top. As I grew closer, I found it to be a journal and a set of pens. Nice ones.
Lifting the card slowly, I read it to myself.
For your secrets.
Signed simply with anXat the bottom.
It was from Manuel Blanco, though to this day, I’m not sure how I knew. And as much as I wanted to hate him, for keeping me here when he clearly knew I didn’t need to be, I couldn’t help the subtle slope to my lips.
Write it down, Byron… All of it. To keep it from eating you alive.
Who knows? Maybe someday someone will be worthy of reading it.
Alabaster Penitentiary.
That’s where I am. Where I’ve been locked away,naked, in a cold, dank room with no light—a ten-by-ten box of concrete that smells like dried blood and stale ocean water—for at least a full day.
I think.There’s no way of knowing how long I’ve truly been here, because there are no windows, clocks, or any indication that anyone isevercoming to get me.
I must say, this ismuchworse than I expected. I assumed I’d get, at the very least, a cot, some food scraps…A jumpsuit.
On the contrary. I arrived and was immediately stripped naked, cavity-searched to the point of being excessive, then thrown into this room to rot. The officers who brought me in weren’t being dramatic.
