Page 54 of Auctioned to the Prisoners

Before I was sold at auction, my life was meaningless and empty. I got by but I wasn’t thriving. I was lonely, deep in my bones, giving away my heart for peanuts in return.

I want more than that now. I want to be the life they’re dreaming about having when they’re finally released. I want to be their hope and salvation.

I want all this love crowded inside me to find a home inside them.

I want redemption for us all, and I’ll get it.

I’ll fight and I’ll win because if I’ve survived my life until now , there’s nothing I can’t do.

21

KINKAID

TUESDAY AFTERNOONS

Dear Kinkaid,

It’s strange to write to you. There's a lot I want to say but can't. You know why. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. Well, as okay as it’s possible to be without you. Is it stupid that I wish I could be locked up with you and share a too-small bunk and eat terrible food just so we can whisper to each other in the dark? I dream of you, and it's like we're together, and everything is brightly colored. Then I wake, and it's gray again.

I hope you're okay. I hope you'll write to me, even if it's just to let me know you're as good as you can be. James and Rock, too.

I managed to help Kennedy and her kids. Everything that happened was worth it for that, even my sad heart.

I miss you. Your hands and your arms, your intense eyes and your hard mouth. You didn't smile a lot, but when you did, it was like a glimpse of sunshine through a storm cloud. Maybe, if life gets less stormy, you could smile more. I'd like that for you.

I listen to that Johnny Cash song you and James used to sing. I hear both your voices when I do, and it makes me feel less alone.

Write me. It won't be enough, but it'll be better than nothing.

It'll give me something to hold on to.

Princess.

I've been working in laundry since Grady returned us to our cells. As a job, it isn't that bad. We get gloves so we don't have to touch the filthy fabrics with our bare hands. Some of these motherfuckers stink like you wouldn't believe, and I don't want to count the types of bodily fluids I've spotted on items I've been sorting. Most men are disgusting pigs when left to their own devices.

The laundry crew is generally upbeat and wasn't resistant to a new joiner. They're mostly focused on the job and the escape from the monotony of life in the cell blocks.

I last saw Grady six days ago, and I probably won't again before I leave. It's too risky for someone to witness us together.

Grady's brother-in-law is going to handle the pickup tomorrow. He knows I'm going to be hidden in the bundles of sheets. Grady's going to run a surprise inspection of the place when it's time for me to disappear, and that'll be enough of a distraction that people won't notice I'm gone. I've kept my head down to make myself less memorable. It's a plan of sorts, and I don't have a choice but to go with it and cross every finger and toe so that I won't get caught.

Lory is out there and leaving her alone until the first of us is released isn’t an option. Her letter solidified the plan. She misses us, even though she's on the outside and free to find any other man on the planet. I haven't been able to breathe without it hurting since I read her words.

What we are to each other is worth risking everything for.

After my work detail is finished, I'm escorted back to D-Block. I search out Hyde and Rock, who are both watching TV and waiting. I slump down, tired but wired.

“You guys okay?”

“Yep.” Rock has returned to his man-of-few-words status.

Hyde's leg jumps again.

They're both missing Lory like crazy.

“Did I ever tell you about this place in Mexico?” I rub the beard I've allowed to grow in since Lory left. I've heard men in other countries grow facial hair when grieving, but mine is more about disguise. In all the photos people have of me, I'm clean-shaven. When I get out of here, I'm buying a shaggy wig, and with the beard, I hope to be less identifiable.

“Mexico?” Hyde bites the edge of his thumb, his dirty green eyes darting between me and the screen.

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