Page 16 of Whistle

He laughed. Like he thought I was cute.

My fist swiped that amusement right off his smug face.

His head snapped back, and he looked at me, incredulous. He couldn’t believe I’d actually decked him. Reaching up, he dabbed the corner of his lip, which was split, glancing at the blood smeared on his thumb.

Yeah, I might look like a pretty boy, but I knew all about ugly.

He rushed me, and I darted to the side at the last minute and shoved him into the lower bunk. He stumbled in head first and then let out a roar as he jerked back. His eyes were hot, cheeks red.

“You better show him who’s boss,” someone from across the hall yelled.

He slammed into me, and I fell backward over the stainless-steel toilet with no seat and no lid. Landing in the corner of the room, he stepped over the toilet to crowd over me. Closing his fist in the front of my jumpsuit, he hauled me up, pinning me into the corner. I tried to buck him off, but the space was miniscule and he was twice my size.

His breath was hot and decaying like he’d never met a toothbrush. “I’ve been playing nice up until now, but I think we better get a few things straight.”

I spit in his face.

Shocked, he drew back, swiping the wet glob off his cheek, and I scrambled away. He caught my arm and pulled me around, swinging at the same time. Sharp pain radiated through me, the sound of his fist connecting with my cheek sort of a dull thud in my brain. I fell back, hitting the bars, and the men in the cell across the hall started to cheer.

“This here is my cell,” the man said, coming over me. “And everything in it is mine too. That includes you.”

He hauled me up and tossed me toward the bunk.

“On the bed. Facedown.”

I swung on him again, burying my fist in his side.

“Hey! Break it up!” a guard yelled from outside the cell.

My toes dragged over the concrete when my attacker grabbed my collar and pulled me forward. His fist rose, and I prepared for another blow, but he was struck in the back with a baton and stumbled to the side. I stumbled too, right into the wall.

The guard inserted himself between us, and his partner crowded the door.

“I said break it up!” he roared. He turned to me. “You. Let’s go.”

Swiping the blood trickling over my cheek, I stood and went the way he gestured. I didn’t care if I was getting punished. It was better than being in that cell.

“This isn’t over,” my roomie yelled as the door was shut and locked behind me.

“Move,” the guard said, poking me in the back to get me to move.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer me. I didn’t ask again. I just walked until he told me to stop and another guard used the keys on his belt to unlock a black steel door with a window too high for me to see in. It swung open, and he gestured for me to enter.

I hesitated, wondering what fresh hell was waiting.

But then I remembered it didn’t matter and stepped inside.

A chair screeched across the floor. “Bodhi?”

The familiar voice sent a rush of powerful emotion through me, tears filling my eyes. Whipping my stare up, I looked through the curtain of my hair, completely astonished.

“Rush?”

He came.

“You look like shit.” His voice was grim.

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