Page 11 of Babalon

I am but a simple man.

Being a car salesman was a low paying job, but I did get to experience luxuries that others were not privy to. I can’t begin to explain the way expensive leather felt under my hands, so buttery and warm. Can’t forget the performance, winding around corners, zipping down the highways with new buyers either. Hell, what I would give to be out of this prison and back at that low-paying job. Anything was better than this.

“What are you thinking about, inmate?” Nadia’s voice crept into my thoughts. I could feel her behind me. I was always aware of where she was, whether I wanted to or not. Her body orbiting mine like a satellite that hovered at the perfect distance and never strayed too far.

I stilled for a moment, blinking, starring at the cinder block wall just inches ahead. Noticing how there was paint missing when I swore I have been stroking this brush back and forth for several minutes now.

Busted.

“Nothing.”

“You sure were still and silent for it to be nothing.”

Curiously, I turned and look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting hers. She was too close to me. For a hateful wench, she sure was pretty— sad that was all she had going for her.

I’m lying, she’s funny too.

“What are you my fucking therapist?”

“You don’t make enough to pay me. What were you thinking though? I lost you there for a few moments. Was like you were in a whole different world. Maybe… you want to talk...”

“No.”

End of discussion.

I knew what she was asking and I wasn’t telling her shit. There was no need for her to dig around in my head. I was just reminiscing like every other fucker in here, and that didn’t require her butting into my business.

This place was beyond manipulative, guards are no different from the inmates they observed— taking any bit of information they could get their hands on and using it against someone. I refused the brotherhood and I’ll refuse my juice card too. I am happy being on my own and just serving my sentence without their influence, without being some officer’s lackey.

“If you would excuse me, I have a wall to paint.”

Her devious little grin, which I have noticed more and more over the past few months, lit up her face. It contrasted the grumpy facade she held onto with a death grip, maybe she isn’t so surly after all.

Catching myself staring at her, I pulled my gaze away from the demon with a sigh of exasperation. Internally I chastise myself, wondering what it would be like to see any sort of expression on her other than distaste and deviancy. In the past, I have witnessed little bits of hope, soft smiles, but that all seemed to be missing now that she has worked here for a few years. I hate that for her, I was never the type of man who cared about the feelingsof others, at least in the past, but it bothered me that she was so jaded.

I bet there was a normal person under that blacked out guard uniform of hers.

Humor, curves, soft skin that would look so damn good covered in…. NOPE.

Paint, mother fucker. Paint the damn wall.

Chapter four

Kace

Present Day

Iwon’t lie; I struggled to keep my focus on that damn wall. Eventually, however, I finished it and good ol’ Officer Pierce cuffed me just to escort me to my class. I know she does this just for the fun of it versus going to her post on C-Block where she belongs.

Like she said, I had a few hours to make up for. Now? I am almost three hours late. She docked me another one for daydreaming.

Can you believe that shit?

I guess she could have been a true wench today and not let me work at all, and that would have cut into my funds. Which makes me think she relocated my commissary again; one of herfavorite ways to screw with me. When she gets quiet, I know she is scheming. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side, but here I am, and I am so fucking over it.

Dropped off at my class, I took a seat at the back after grabbing a single piece of paper and a pencil. The local college partnered with Darkwater to allow Doctorate teaching students to come into the facility and put on classes in various subjects. While other inmates had to start with the basics such as math, English, history, and science, I am well into college level courses.

Just so happens, this is a Criminal Justice class. What do convicts like me get out of a class like this? They hope to find some sort of loophole to end their sentencing. Unfortunately, they usually fail, which sucks for them, but occasionally someone wins their hearing and are released with strict regulations.

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