Page 68 of Caged In

It can’t hurt to ask . . .

Swallowing the noodles coating his tongue, “would you mind if I borrowed some of those?” Izz points to the papers and envelopes, “I’d like to be able to write to my sister.”

Is it weird to ask? Out of line?

“Help yourself,” Sinn'ous answersnonchalantly, as he cleans the cooking pot—prison stove?—whatever you call it.

~~~

Izz shyly slinksback into his cell, he doesn’t want anyone finding out where he’s been—who he’s been with. His stomach warmed with food, a stack of papers, envelopes, stamps and pencils, crammed under his arms. His sister’s drawing still nestled safely in his pocket. With everything that had happened, he’d almost forgotten about what had started it. Glad he hadn’t set the drawing down somewhere in his weird numbed out state. He would not want to go out searching for it. Or lose it, when it cost him so much to keep—

Don’t think about it.

Throwing the supplies onto his bunk, Izz crouches down to make some room in his cupboard for the collection. Carefully laying them out on one of the shelves, he shoves the snacks and clothing aside. He can live with crumpled clothes, he can’t live with sending his little sister letters on scrunched-up paper. He doesn’t want her to know anything about the terrible conditions on the inside of this Hell-hole.

His sister’s drawing is the last thing left, sitting in the middle of his bunk. Perhaps he can find something to hang it up with. Sinn'ous would have tape or pins or something? He must have, to hang all those pages on his cell walls—

“Hey Izz, we missed ya at dinner, you all good?”

Reni’s abruptdisturbance startles Izz to such an extent that he unintentionally slams the cupboarddoors shut. Unsure why he jumped out of his skin, as he has nothing to hide—nothing in this room to hide at least. Reni already knows about the gifts,and who they come from, and he’s already made his disapproval clear.

“What?—oh.”No, I am not fine,“I’m great, sorry. Visitation was hard, I came back here to get away and clear my head.”

Not strictly true, though it is close enough to the truth to be believable. No way is he ever uttering the words out loud to Reni or his other friends about what he’d done—

Stop thinking about it.

“Yup.” Reni sits on his bunk across from where Izz’s kneeling on the cold floor. “Lots of inmates tell their people on the outside not to come, to move on and live their lives. Because it’s depressing and hard to see them. To hear about the world moving along without us. It’s easier not to see anyone, to forget the outside world exists.”

Izz settles onto his bunk, picking up his little sister’s drawing, he can duck back down to Sinn'ous’s cell and pinch some tape, there is still time before lights out. Though he isn’t sure what he’ll say to Reni about it. He’s not ready to divulge that he’d spent the afternoon in Sinn'ous’s cell. Reni had told him to stay away from the dangerous inmate. Good thing he didn’t listen or he’d have been screwed today.

“Cute drawing.”

Izz regards Reni, who’s leaning forward to study the picture. “My little sis drew it. She’s big into the art side of things. She wants to be an artist when she gets older.” Izz winces at the memories of what transpired after his sister left. He turns away from the picture, placing it down on the bunk once more, hoping the drawing won’t be tainted forever with terrible memories. Fearing that it might be, for a while, until it isn’t so fresh in his mind.

Will he ever get the images out of his mind’s eye? The events are searedinto his brain, vivid in their visual accuracy and saturated colours—

Izz fights to regain control of his thoughts, locking them away in their little box of denial. Deliberately focusing his mind on other activities, like writing to his sister. He’ll do it tomorrow, pack some stamps into the envelope as well, so Luc can write back. He doesn’t want to worry about them spending money on stamps. He might ask her for some more drawings in the letter, so he won’t have only this one to look at, with its sickening baggage attached—

A shrill alarm shrieks through A-Wing, slamming into Izz’s eardrums and rattling his skull. He cups his hands over his ears, trying to block out the piercing noise.

Does it need to be so loud.Izz’s inner voice screams. Not helping the ringing in his ears.

“Lockdown,” Reni bellows over the alarm’s screech, cupping his ears the same as Izz. “Someone’s got their ass shivved.”

Reni laughs—Izz can’t hear it over the screaming alarm, and his own inner screaming, but he can see Reni’s ecstaticexpression—

Izz barely makes it to the toilet before puking up the ramen he’dconsumed.

21

Day two of lockdown.

Another frickin’ day, stuck in a tiny cell, with nothing to do. Nothing but listening to Reni gossip about anything—and everything—that’s been going down in prison. Including the new perfume of the guard, Missy,who works in Med-Wing. Apparently they have specifically allocated guards who look after Med-Wing and nothing else. One of the guards is shady and you can buy shitoff him. Izz kind of zoned out at that point. There is only so much gossip he can take before he’ll breakdown and start screaming.

The guards allow the kitchen inmates to leave their cells to cook for the rest of them. Dragging trolleys through the Wings to feed everyone in their cells. The library is also still open, guess the guards want the inmates to be occupied and not strangle their cellmates. Commissary and the library inmates working together to deliver reading material and goods. If you paid for them of course, the prison stillwants to make their money, even when one of their guards is killed.

“ . . . must have been a guard. Bet it was that psychopath who did it,” Reni muses from his bunk, hanging upside down over the edge as he plays collect the dust bunnies on the floor.

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