Page 32 of Caged In

Drip . . .

Drip . . .

Splattering on the concrete floor next to his rapidly bruising body, forming a little puddle of crimson.

He groans, curling in on himself, trying to release the pain from his body. A burning sharp agony that doesn’t want to subside, adamant on letting him know it’s there.

Three days in, and I’m dying in the corridor.

Izz can hear yelling, cursing above him, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Going by the rising noise level, more inmates have gathered in the small space to watch, or participate, he isn’t sure which.

Sucking in a deep breath to ground himself—wheezing when the movement ignites pain in his ribs—he uses the wall to sit up, slumping over the bricks to hold himself steady. Blinking rapidly to clear the throbbing in his head and the pains’ haze from his vision, he leans his head against the wall. The pungent smell of his own blood burning his sinuses.

The change from horizontal to vertical brings Izz’s line of sight to the fighting above him. To the two other inmates who joined the fight. Who saved his life.

Reni and Zidie. They’re drawing the attention off Izz and taking the gang members on in full force. A powerful team working together to kick ass.

Reni’s crouched over a downed inmate, his fists raining down while they try to shield their face from the brutal impacts. Izz sees a different Reni, his face twisted in rage, teeth bared and eyes flaming.

Who knew Reni cared so much about me.

Another of the bald gang members is sprawled on the concrete floor, either dead or unconscious. Izz can’t tell, the inmate isn’t moving, but they may have been breathing shallowly? Hopefully.

He doesn’t know what to feel if he’s looking at someone dead in front of him. Sickened? Relieved they won’t come after him again?

Sickened. I am not relieved about their death. That is not who I am. It’s not who I ever want to be.

On the other side of thenot-deadman, Zidie is bouncing on the balls of his feet, squaring off against two bald men. He’s throwing punches and kicks, blocking blows and returning themin kind. He’s agile and quick, able to outmanoeuvre the gang members who are relying on brute strength and little to no skills—

A blaring siren sounds out, thundering down the corridor, bouncing off the brick walls to echo louder. Izz covers his ears, trying to block out the screeching. Jumping to his feet, as if it will help his ears. It sure doesn’t help his battered body. Instead, it awakens injuries he hadn’t felt before. Perhaps the adrenaline is wearing off? Or the swelling and soreness is too advanced to ignore.

How much damage have I endured—

The guards’ stream in—pushing and shoving the onlooking inmates to the side—cuffs in hand. They make quick work securing the inmates involved in the fight, handcuffs clicking on wrists in well-practiced precision.

He’s surprised when he isn’t also cuffed. He receives nothing more than a side-eye from a guard before the man’s eyes dart over Izz’s shoulder and he walks on to help his thugs-in-uniform drag off inmates.

Izz watches in stunned shock as Reni and Zidie are hauled away, along with three of the four gang members. And an inmate he doesn’t recognise who’s swearing and trying to kick every guard in sight.

Going to The Hole?

The unconscious inmate is hefted between two guards and dragged over the floor, his feet flopping as he hangs limp between them. Perhaps heading to Med-Wing? If Izz’s to guess. Or the morgue.

Does the prison have a morgue?—

He doesn’t want to know.

The spectators disperse, now that the excitement is over, driftingoff to the cafeteria to resume eating. Izz’s appetite hasdisappeared, he turns and limps off to the showers to wash the blood off his face. Holding his ribs protectively.

Halfway to the showers, he remembershe has a sink in his cell—he could have washed there. He considers turning around and going back, but he’s already this far so he sticks with it. Only a few more turns to the showers—

Voices drift over from around the next corner. They’re voices he recognises from The Gang. Izz drops his head, his shoulders slumping, shame rolling over him. Covered in blood, hating himself for Reni and Zidie now stuck in The Hole. All because of him, because they had to step in to save him.

He falters at the periphery of the bend in the corridor, the hushed snippets of conversation giving him pause. He peeks his head around the corner, leaving his body hidden by the wall so he doesn’t draw attention to himself. Overhearing the tense conversation between Isco, Phelix and David. Who are facing away from him, slowly strollingdown the corridor, headingin the direction of the showers.

Would have been embarrassing if they’d been right near the corner facing him. With his head popping out all‘hello’—he probably would have squealed to add insult to his obvious spying.

David’s voice carries back to Izz strong and sure, “we can’t keep protecting him, or we will all be targets or in The Hole. And I for-one, am not going back to The Hole for anyone. Especially not someone who can’t fight to save his life,” David grumbles, anger lacing his words. “He’s attracting attention. Pissing off gangs—gangs who we don’t need to be drawing attention from. It’s going to get us killed. Protecting him. Is it really worth it?”

---