Page 85 of Caged In

“Relax.”

A soft faraway voice whispers into his downwards spiralling void. His body spinning and twisting with present reality mixing with past. Swirling in a knot of pain and fear.

“Breathe.”

Izz follows the instructions. Concentrating on his breathing. Stamping out the images trying to take over.

“It will pass.”

He’s aware he’s in the throes of a panic attack—doesn’t make it any less real. Or any easier to pull himself out of. The whispered reassuring words are helping him. Slowly easing him out of his mind’s downwards spiral.

“You’re fine. I’m right here.”

He’s not used to this. It’s so real. As if he has actually jumped back in time and is helpless once more, in the clutches of those . . . degenerates. Logically, he knows it is all in his head. The inmates who had hurt him are dead. They can never harm him again.

“I’m right with you. You’re not alone.”

Izz grabs onto Sinn'ous’s voice, using it to calm his breathing enough to force outan explanation. Knowing he owes one to Sinn'ous. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. You can choose to stop any time you like. It’s your choice. And I will respect it. We can wait until you’re ready.”

Izz blinks into his folded arms, he hadn’t been aware just how tightly he’s hugging his legs. Holding himself in a safe embrace, clutching onto himself so he doesn’t collapse, doesn’t sink into the tornado of emotions and memories.

“How are you so nice?” Izz mumbles into his knees. “You’re a serial killer. How are you like this? So kind and gentle with me.”

“You intrigue me,” Sinn'ous offers in way of explanation, the same thing he’d said to Izz in the showers. He pauses for a brief moment before choosing to elaborate further, “closest I’ve come tofeelinganything towards someone, outside of what it’s like for them to . . . no longer be around . . . but don’t call me that. I am not aserial killer. I am only me. Who I have always been. Not some make-believe-thingnormalpeople invent to allow themselves to feel better about living boring sheltered lives.”

‘No longer around . . .’

Does Sinn'ous mean when they die—when he kills them?

Sinn'ous’s explanation leaves Izz with more questions than answers. He will have to consider how to put all the things he wants to know into words. To ask at a later time.

Izz smirks when his mind catches on to the last of what Sinn'ous said.

“Something amusing?” Sinn'ous obviously clicking on to Izz’s shift in mood.

“You can live a perfectly eventful life without killing anyone,” Izz smiles over at the male. Watching Sinn'ous’s face spark with delight and something . . . sinister?—he can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Izz laughs. His body loosening from its tight defensive ball. The panic attack receding as fast as it came on. A lingering unease is left in its wake. An easy thing for Izz to shove to theback of his mind. Especially with the stinging pain in his hip and neck. The brandings of the male who’s shown him compassion and kindness in a sea of manipulation and lies. Someone he wholeheartedly trusts.

“You’re strange,” Izz playfully mocks, his smile broadening.

Sinn'ous shows his own form of amusement, his usual stone-coldface cracking with lines of emotions, “is it a good or bad thing.”

Izz’s not entirely sure. He likes Sinn'ous. Enjoys the other’s company. But he is a killer. One who enjoys killing. Dangerous.

You can’t trust someone who feels nothing for others. Who desires to kill, holding zero remorse.

He knows he shouldn’t be so trusting, yet he finds himself embracing it with open arms.

Why do I feel this way about this male? Am I safe . . . or will this be how I die?

“Haven’t worked it out yet,” Izz murmurs in response.

And it is the truth. He has no idea why he is this way. Why he is willing to trust his life in the hands of a psychopath. Which is what Sinn'ous is, isn’t it? An un-empathetic killer . . .

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