Page 3 of These Monstrous Deeds

Carter has no fucking idea.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says again.

The boy curls into Carter’s side, sobbing harder.

“What’s your name?” Carter asks, trying to get the boy distracted.

“E-Elliot.” The boy rubs at his face, trying to calm his breathing. “I jus’ wanna go home! I want my mom!”

Carter can fucking relate. He’s 22 and he wants his mom so badly it hurts. He hasn’t ached with this kind of need for her since the days following her death.

“I didn’t do anythin’ wrong,” Elliot whispers. He looks up at Carter with huge blue eyes full of tears. “Can you tell ‘em that? I told ‘em I’m a good boy, but they – they didn’t listen!”

Carter doesn’t know what the fuck to say to that. Thankfully, another guy around Carter’s age sits on the other side of Elliot. The three of them have to squeeze in uncomfortably close to fit, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind being sandwiched between them.

“These are the bad guys, little dude,” the new guy says. “And you know what happens to the bad guys, right?”

“What?”

“They lose in the end. They always fucking lose in the end. You just have to wait long enough.”

Elliot sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You said a bad word.”

The guy laughs softly, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. My mom isn’t here, so like… you don’t have to pay a quarter or nothin’.”

The guy laughs again. Carter joins in this time. Even Elliot smiles.

The three talk for a while. Long enough for Elliot to get sleepy. He rests his head on Carter’s shoulder at some point, starting to doze. It’s not long after that when the guy on the boy’s other side looks over Elliot’s head at Carter and says, “I’m Casey.”

“Carter.”

“You’re new, hey?”

“I don’t know.” Carter shrugs. “I don’t feel new. Feels like I’ve been here forever.”

Casey nods. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

Carter studies the boy, vaguely recognizing him from other moments when he accidentally paid too much attention to the horrors around him. He’s thin, despite his large frame. Carter could picture him as some sort of athlete in his former life. Football player, maybe. Or hockey. Now, he just looks like a ghost of those things. “How long have you been here?”

Casey shakes his head, looking away. Someone is taking a shit in the bucket that’s set over in the corner. He has a sick stomach. It’s not a very pleasant thing to be witness to.

Casey never answers Carter’s question. He doesn’t have to. It’s in the weight of his eyes. The set of his mouth. The way he sighs when he looks away. The answer is evident.Too long.

“He won’t stay more than a night or two,” Casey says after a few minutes have passed. The sick guy is trying to decide if he should waste his half-slice of bread for the day to wipe his ass free of the liquid shit lingering between his cheeks.

“Who won’t stay?”

“Elliot.” Casey sighs, then yells, “Hey, you!” He raises his chin and snaps his fingers towards the guy by the bucket. The guy looks up with wide eyes. “Don’t be a dipshit. Eat the bread. They’ll come clean us soon enough.”

The sick guy curls in on himself, tears falling down his bright red face. Carter prays that’s never him. He focuses on Elliot instead. He just met the kid, but his chest already aches thinking of what will happen to him after this cell. It’s going to be worse. He knows it. Whatever is next for all of them, it’s going to be so much worse.

“Why is Elliot not going to be around long?” Carter asks, hoping Casey doesn’t judge him for the sadness in his voice.

Casey doesn’t judge, but he does shrug like he’s unaffected by the whole thing. Maybe he is. Maybe Carter will learn how to be like that soon. “The little ones never linger. They’re in too high of demand. Harder to snatch a minor, ya know? Everyone looks for a kid.”

“Maybe this time it’ll be different.”

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