Page 57 of Caged In

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he got Reni killed. Not over this crazy situation. Not over him. Reni never deserved any of it—why did he think it was a good idea to unburden himself on his friend?

“Shit,” Reni finally releases the breath he’s been holding onto. His eyes blown wide.

“Really?” Izz sputters.“That’s all you’ve got? What the hell am I supposed to do?” Great. Now Izz’s yelling at his friend.

Way to go. Yell at one of the only friends you have in this cage of hundreds. Drive away the inmate who cares about your survival.

Izz rubs frantically at his hair, as if it might stimulate his brain into blurting out a solution to his problems. He isn’t coming up with any viable plans, and it doesn’t appear as though Reni is having any less trouble in the planning department.

“I—ah . . .” Reni opens and shuts his mouth a few times. Closingit for good when he can’t find anything to say.

“Great. Just . . . great.” Izz throws his hands in the air.

I’m screwed. I’m so fucking dead.

17

Izz stuffs his pockets with various chocolate bars before following Reni out into the prison to go to the early morning meal. A routine he’s become used to—the early breakfast, not the chocolate communityfilling his pockets. The sugary treats he’s bringing outside the cell will be a new experience for him. He usually keeps his depression-slash-anxiety eating—ironically—locked up behind cell doors.

He skips the line, forgoing the somewhat nutritious meal, in favour of his sugar-filled pants. He’s having himself a healthy breakfast today, chocolate comes from a plant so he’s practically eating fruit bars.

He doesn’t even try to convince himself he isn’t scanning the room for the killer who hasn’t yet taken the usual place in the shadowed back corner. He and Reni are arriving late, breakfast had started . . . ‘bout half an hour ago? The killer is usually always early, he should have arrived by now.

Where is the killer?

He’s worried and relieved at the same time. Relieved he won’t have to pretend not to watch the male through the entire meal. Worried he doesn’t know what the killer is doing, worried that the killer had been freed, or moved prisons or been thrown in The Hole, or—

Izz groans, loud enough for The Gang to hear and look his way. He plants his ass in his usual place—pretending he didn’t utter a sound—the hard seatalready driving an ache deepinto his muscles. Why can’t they put cushions on the chairsor something? Every time he sits he feels like he’s going to take a metalsplinter up his ass.

He worms his fingers into his tightly stuffed pocket to retrieve hisfruit bar.Squeezing the littlehealth baropen to eagerly consume its contents. Biting off half the bar in one chomp—the caramel chocolate sludge sticking on the roof of his mouth. His tongue working overtime to try to dislodgethe uncooperative goo.

“How are you still eating them? Why are you still taking the bribes he gives you?”

He’d been so focused on his sticky task he failed to noticeReni sitting downwith his full tray, right beside him. Reni’s regular spot is normally in front of him, not thisbeside-thingthe other has going on today. It threw his composure off.

First, the killer hasn’t shown up, now Reni is sitting in a different place. Is it because he changed the routine by bringing chocolates to breakfast? A weirdkarma revenge scheme?

Is that how karma works? Probably not.

“They aren’tbribes.” Izz feels the needto clarify. “And besides,Hesaid there are no strings attached. What were his words . . .”

Izz bites off the last of his bar, thinking back to the shower room. “Oh, yeah, it was—” Izz plays down his voice, deepening it to try to mimic the killer—failing miserably, “I’ve done a lot of bad crap, but I’ve never raped anyone. I find youintriguing.”

Sceptical, his cellmate pulls a face at him, “he said‘crap’?”

Izz playfully punches his friend’s arm. “Alright, so maybe not those exact words but you get the point.”

Under his breath, Reni mutters something about Izz having a death wish.

Izz laughs, opening another bar and brushing off his cellmate’s worries. He has worries, sure, but he’s avoiding thinking about them. Maybe they won’t become tangible? If he permits Reni’s words to sink in, he’s afraid his own stewing concerns will gain a foothold in his frontal lobe—

The prison’s blaring alarm blasts through the cafeteria rattling Izz’s fears free. Building up their momentum—he quickly stomps them down before he begins to freak out that something has happened to the killer. Which he shouldn’t be doing, those thoughts should not be crossing his mind.

He drops the half-eaten bar in favour of blocking his ears with both hands. Sealinghis palms tight enough over his ears that they’re liable to embedinto his skin.

“What’s that?” Izz bellows over the shrill noise, unsureif anyone can hear him. He can scarcelyhear himself.

“Lockdown,” Reni yells back, grabbing Izz’s arm to drag him to his feet.

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