Page 78 of Caged In

Sinn'ous stands, apparently satisfied with Izz eating, or finished in the task he set about completing—the delivery made and accepted.

He would like Sinn'ous to stay. But he doesn’t voice his wants. Isn’t sure they will be reciprocated. Just because the other inmate saved him and gifted him with a heavenly treat to ease his pain. Doesn’t mean the male isn’t a serial killer. Who could very well be keeping him alive to have the pleasure of killing him later. He doesn’t want to make it any easier for the hypothetical death to become a reality.

But as much as he tells himself not to trust the dangerous male, he finds himself falling deeper into the realmof true faith. Faith in someone everyone else told him is untrustworthy.

All the eyes—from the entire cafeteria—are on Izz. The conversations slowly starting to pick back up. Whispered and murmured. As though the whole room is trying to guess what the interaction was. But no one’s brave enough to risk their words being overheard by Sinn'ous.

It takes a little while for The Gang to collect their hearts from the floor and begin chatting. The tension is still hanging thickly over their heads. They had already finished their food—eaten while Izz was sitting in his head, before their unexpected interruption. Leaving Izz as the last one with a full tray.

The soup is lovely, a cool soft mixture. Easy for him to stomach. He wouldn’t have been able to eat it if it’d been hot. Sinn'ous really had been thoughtful with this gift.

When he’s asked by Zidie to join his team for the first card game in the Rec-Room, he politely declines. Fabricating an excuse, he walks off to empty his uneaten food into one of the bins and return his tray. He hadn’t even tried to eat the prison meal. Sinn'ous’s gift is all he needs and all he wants.

Izz connects his eyes with Sinn'ous from across the room, waiting for the male to acknowledge him . . . He receives a small nod, figuring it means Sinn'ous understands what he’s waiting for—

Sure enough the mohawked male rises, making his way over to return his own tray, setting it down on top of the tray Izz left.

They exit the cafeteria together, Izz following along close behind as Sinn'ous leads the way. He’s not exactly sure where they’re going, buthe follows, nevertheless. Completely trusting in the male not to be holding ill intentions. He may regret it later, if it turns out he is merely the naive prey.

Izz wants desperately to forget he’s caged up with so many violent untrustworthy criminals. Trapped.

He doesn’t want to discover any evil intentions coming off the male he’s placed his trust in. The one inmate everyone else fears. A ghost of death in their midst. They avoid him, and hold their breaths, terrified to be caught in Death’s cold clutches.

Turns out, their destination is Sinn'ous’s cell. The religious Satanic markings something Izz’s becoming used to. They don’t scarehim, as he thought they should. Maybe because he is on the other side now. He knows what it’s like to take a life. How easily it can happen—how easily it can happen to anyone. That killing someone isn’t always planned out. Sometimes it’s a deeply regretted mistake. An accident that, no matter how much you want to rewind time, cannot be undone.

Despite his aching throat, Izz finds himself opening his mouth to talk, to drive his thoughts away with a distraction, “I’m surprised the guards let you leave this up. Wouldn’t it be considered . . .Evil—or something,” he whispers the words, running his eyes over the painted walls, the scriptures and book pages interlacedwith symbols and markings. It’s neat, tidy and well crafted. An artistry of work. The cell a tapestry for the Devil’s marks.

“A lot of them think stepping foot in here will condemn them to Hell—”

Izz burst out laughing, a rasping choked off noise, his throat protesting. He can’t help it. His nervous energy is letting itselfout. It’s a ridiculouslaugh verging on hysteria. Now he really does resemble a man teetering on the edge of insanity.

“They think you’re the Devil?” Izz’s injuries make it hard even for him to understand his words. He won’t be surprised if Sinn'ous can’t decipher them.

“I’ve never asked. Don’t care,” turns out Sinn'ous can hear the question just fine.

Izz wants to end the conversation he started, every syllable causing pain to his healing throat. If only it would hurry up and heal, he’d like to erase the memories, and have no physical links to bring them back. Too many traumas piling up, creating a wall of issues which will require years of therapy to knock down. If he ever can.

“I see,” Izz eyes the soft inviting bunk. It’s cushioning of soft blankets and enticing mountain of pillows . . . It would be so nice to lay down on it—

“You can relax, if you wish. Get some rest.”

Izz nods, slipping his shoes off to settle down on Sinn'ous’s bunk, curling up and tugging the blankets around himself. The soft mattresses marshmallowing his body in a gentle embrace. He scoots over, close to the wall, pressing his front to its bricks, the blankets shielding him from its harsh cold. Hoping Sinn'ous will take up the empty space behind him and cuddle with him.

He’s aware he should not be relying on Sinn'ous for safety or reassurance. Especially when he knows little to nothing about the male. With only the whispered rumours from fellow prisoners to go on. No way of knowing how many of those stories are true, and how much is false.

He should ask. Should get to know Sinn'ous, the one he’s laid so much trust in. He’s too exhausted to try now. He will. One day . . . At some stage. Possibly . . .

He worries about discovering the truth, not sure he wants to know why the male is in prison. If it’s spoken by others, Izz canwrite it off, ignore it. But if Sinn'ous tells him, in person, that the rumours and whispers are true . . . He isn’t sure he’s ready to handle it. Isn’t sure he can deal with Sinn'ous being a soulless serial killer . . .

Izz figures Sinn'ous can’t be wholly what people say—a cold-hearted killer. He’s protected Izz, has saved him. A cold-hearted killer wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t risk their own life, risk being caught, risk having a witness. Just to save someone they don’t know.

Sinn'ous has to be good. He has to be a decent human being . . .

Izz slips into unconsciousness, in the company of Sinn'ous—an inmate he associates with safety—watching over him. Awash in a sense of calm, choosing to believe in the saviour who will never harm him.

~~~

Izz wakes to someone nudging him, it takes him a moment to remember he’d fallen asleep in Sinn'ous’s cell, in the male’s bunk . . .

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