Page 45 of Caged In

The pantry door clanks open—with so much force it bounces back off the wall to fly at the person that assaultedit—

Caught in an outstretched hand, of one very pissed-off guard—

The noise had been his keys—the keys every guard carries on their belt—

“We having a picnic in here or what?” The guard demands, his voice cracking off the pantry walls. “Get the fuck out and back to your cells.”

Izz doesn’t hesitate for a second. Scrambling out. Placing as much distance as he can between himself and Levis.

Stumblingout past the food bar, he steps free into the cafeteria—

Stopping dead halfway to the corridor that leads to his Wing—

The black and red mohawked serial killer is leaning back against the cafeteria wall, consumedby shadows. A dark menacing presence.

Why is he here? What . . .

Izz throws a look over his shoulder, watching Levis storm out the side door, the double doors flapping wide. The kitchen boss didn’t notice the serial killer lurking in the cafeteria’s depths. A shark in dark waters.

Izz pulls his gazeback—

Only to find an empty space. The killer is gone. No trace he’d been there. No sounds of his departure.

Is the killer the reason the guard came in? Or pure coincidence?

“Get moving, inmate,” the guard’s voice doesn’t seem as angry this time. More tired and exhausted.

Izz studies the empty shadows one last time, as though he’ll find the answers he seeks if he stares long enough. He has so many unanswered questions . . .

“Thank you,” Izz breathes out under his breath. Not sure if he’s thanking the guard or the serial killer. Perhaps a little of both.

14

Izz sprints to his cell in a hunger-filled blur. Weaving around inmates. His ravenous stomach growling demands to be filled.

He discovers more snacks waiting for him in his bunk. Nestled among the messy sheets he hadn’t tucked back in.

He can’t get Levis’s words out of his head. Like the power-saving mode on an oldcomputer screen, they bounce from one corner of his mind to the next in a hypnotising rhythm, dancing across the screen of his mind.

‘After all I’ve done for you’.

Around and around. Circling and changing. Restless thoughts, colliding with other unanswerable questions—

Izz rushes to the toilet, grasping the sides just in time for his stomach’s evac’. Little more than bileforcing its way out. No food in his stomach to expel.

Squatting by the toilet, with his stomach’s growls increasing in volume, he hangs his head over his arm, closes his eyes, and weeps.

He lets his emotions loose—the emotions which have been hidden by surges of adrenaline. Free to explode out his chest as he cries silently in his cell—alone and scared, slumpedover a prison toiletbowl.

This isn’t fair. No one should have to go through this. Why is this cage so cruel?

Why do they have to target me?

Gathering a minusculeof composure, Izz shakily gets to his feet, his knees wobbling. Biting his lip through the pins and needles, he washes his face in the sink. Hitting the flusher on the toilet, as water drips off his chin to wet his shirt collar.

Gritting his teeth at the onslaughtof agony riding up his calvesas the feeling comes back to his legs. His body’s way of cursing him for his mistreatment, for leaving it curled up on the cold floor.

His stomach is a hollow pit. Empty and sad. He refuses to fill it. The only food he has are the snacks that creep left him. He may be many things but he isn’t stupid. He is not going to risk more repercussionsfor accepting food from Levis.

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