Page 52 of Caged In

“You did that to yourself?”

He’s going to puke.

How could Sinj—

To slice it—

Okay, yup. He is going to throw up on the prison’s uneven concrete floor—

How much would that have hurt? To do that to your own tongue—

“We’ll, technically, a tattoo artist I know did it. He dabbles in the extreme mod’ stuff. The tongue is numbed and all that jazz, you don’t feel a thing.”

Izz sagsin relief—or his body gives out on him. Either way, he leans against the wall like it’s a lifeline.

Now that he’s recovered from his initial shock—and he knows it’s not some in-the-bathroom-over-the-sink-with-a-razor-blade type thing—it’s actually kind of cool.

Different, but not all bad. It matches Sinj’s qualities quite nicely—

Izz gets it—what Sinj meant when he said Erik’s jealous. A split tongue would feel amazing and completely different from anyone else in here, for . . . Umm . . .paidcompanionship. . .

Wonder how much he charges?—

No you most definitely do not. Come on Izz. Pull yourself together, man—

“Be careful with that one, he’s crazy,” Erik nudges Izz’s ribs with his elbow, “bit a dude’s dick off once.”

“Really,”Izz breathesout, eyes glued on Sinj to wait for his reply.

A confirmation he’s not sure he wants to hear.

Sinj grins wickedly. Causing chills to run up and down Izz’s spine. He wants to check his own partsare intact as a phantom pain invades his own dick at the thought of being the victim of such extreme violence.

“I told the prick‘no’.He should have listened,” Sinj grins wider, laughing ominously.

The queasinessreturns, his throat muscles working overtime to depress his gag reflex. His last meal threatening to make an unwelcome appearance.

Reni shakes his head, mouthing to Izz that it isn’t a true story. Leaning in to whisper for only Izz’s ears to hear,“he might be crazy, but he’s never done that . . .” When Reni leans back, Izz hears him say under his breath, “at least . . . not that we know of.”

Not reassuring in the slightest. In fact it has him thinking, it might just be true—

Izz sighs as they stop near the stairs leading to his and Reni’s shared cell. Breaking away from The Gang to clompup the metalsteps. He’s glad to leave the conversation behind, to pretend it never took place. He doesn’t need more fuel for his nightmares. He’s already struggling to sleep with the creep from the kitchen and the vomit-dragon tattoo creep who lives in the same Wing.

This cage’s filled with too many creeps for his liking.

More chocolates. Izz discovers the sweets on his bunk, half tucked under his pillow. He leaves them where they are, and uses the toilet. He isn’t sure he has room left in his cupboard. Where else can he stash them?

Once he finishes relieving his bladder, he strollsback to his bunk to collect the chocolates to stuff into his overfilled cupboard. A squirrel storing its nuts for the harsh winter months when food is scarce—

Tucked out of the way—under his pillow—is a neat little roll. A thin roll of tiny paper—

Izz scoops up the joint so fast he almostwhiplashes himself. Cradling thepreciousbundle in his palms.

This is the best gift yet.

Izz squeals in his head like a girl, giddy to try it and take his mind far away from this overcrowded cage he’s forced to live in. With people he is forced to live next to.

Reluctantly, he sets the joint to the side, nestled on his pillow. He can’t smoke it now, it isn’t safe, he’d becaught by a guard. Either while smoking it, or because his cell will stink of it.

---