Page 34 of Babalon

Holding onto his arm with what felt like a death grip, I walk quickly in the opposite direction I arrived from. In the past few years, I have learned that the longer the hallway was, the less likely someone would come barreling down it, which works out great for me. That’s how I got some of my merchandise moved through the prison. I’d meet with an inmate who would push it the rest of the way out to the population; I would make the initial delivery to him in exchange for the cash. Every week it was a different location and a different inmate, anything to keep from getting caught.

I’ve never taken Kace down this far, usually keeping us both out in the open so the rumor mill didn’t take off, keeping my name clear.

Coming to the end of the corridor, I look back over my shoulder to make sure we were alone while stepping up to the door that connected this wing with the basement. There are only a few entrances, most of them blocked to prevent use since the basement has been deemed unsafe, even by prison standards. Grabbing the door handle, I wrench the door open before shoving Kace inside.

“Nadia, have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“What? No, I—.”

“You were what, kidnapping me? Jesus Christ, I knew you were on edge today, but dragging me off to…” He pauses, looking around the room that sat just beyond the threshold. The single door that opens up to the stairs that leads to the basement on the other side of the room.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“The old basement entrance. They use this room for storage for the most part, but that door over there takes you down into the pit.”

“The pit?”

“Yeah, think of it as the morgue and seg before human rights activists had a field day and the former warden had it closed up.”

I watch him closely as he looks around, his wrists still bound behind his back while he peers every which way. With space between us, and the lack of hostility, I take the time to look at him, and I mean really look. If he was anyone else, he would be rushing me right now, either out of violence or survival, but Kace just stood there, curiously looking at some of the junk left behind.

“How do you know about this place?”

“I know of all the entrances, I need something to do on night shift while you’re getting your beauty sleep, inmate.”

I don’t know how or why, but I feel comfortable here with him. Come to think about it, I always feel like this with Kace around—even when I am being a nuisance to him. He must hate me for that, hate me for the things I have done to him, hate me for… for assaulting him.

“Kace…” His name was out of my mouth before I could stop it. When he turns and looks at me, I see myself looking back. The younger version of me who was forced to her knees and was taken advantage of—I’m a monster. I was right the other day; I am just like them.

“I—I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y—you know.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Why don’t you spell it the fuck out, Nadia.”

Great, now he is mad at me, rightfully so though, so he can have that one. Finally, Kace turns to look my way as I cross my arms over my chest and let my eyes fall to the floor, pushing an invisible stone along the hard surface with the toe of my boot. Maybe if I don’t look at him, he will give me a break and say that it wasn’t necessary, but alas, I’m not that fortunate.

“You’re really going to make me say it all out loud?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’ve been a cunt; I think you’ve earned the way it makes you feel.”

Heavy silence settles between us, a knot in my throat once more, because that fucking stings. He is right though; I deserve to feel this way even if the resistant side of me refuses to admit any of it. Just as I start to open my mouth, his slides enter my field of vision, standing only about a foot away from my own.

“Eyes up, Officer Pierce. Let me see you.”

His voice is so calm, smooth, soothing.

Begrudgingly, I tilt my head and look up; he sure is a handsome fucker.

“There you are. Now, go on and say it.”

Is he a sadist? He sure as fuck seems like one.

“I’m sorry for taking your commissary funds. I’m sorry for canceling and blocking your visitation. I…”

“Don’t stop now, you’re doing so good.”

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