Page 41 of Babalon

Dammit, it’s Zurita.

“Why the fuck are you with Patton?” He asks, accusatorially.

“He was in the library with inmate Winston and took off running when I attempted to escort him back to his bunk for the count.”

I feel her shift behind me a little then move up to my side, almost like she’s making herself visible yet still staying safe behind me.

Smart girl. Good liar.

I don’t hold Zurita’s gaze per se, but I’m not necessarily backing down either. Trying to act as normal as possible even though my heart is racing out of my fucking chest. If he sees any marks on her, due to how heavy handed I was, or he finds out about anything, I am on a one-way ride to seg.

I’m being paranoid right now. She won’t let him find out, will she? I know I talk a lot of shit, but being labeled a rapist in prison is a death sentence for me. I don’t know if I want my tenure to end now–now that I’ve had her.

Nadia, the defiant little shit, stares back at the man. Never backing down. I need to know what happened to her. Why she has a spine strong enough to stand up to men bigger than she is, yet unable to handle someone saying anything about her past. No matter what happens between us, I’m going to wrench it out of her. One way or another.

“Well, let’s go. We need to do another count since he wasn’t present. Then we can release everyone to dinner, and you can go home afterwards.”

“Alright, sounds good,” she replies.

Nadia brushes against me, and with a pull, begins to lead the way back to C Block; home sweet home.

Once we finally march up to my cell door, I step inside with Ronald, and he looks up at me unimpressed, as always. Nadia right behind me, uncuffing me, and then gives me a hard shove. She-devil is big mad—I want her to be. That anger will help her maintain her reputation. Walking over to my shelf, I dig through my clean clothes and pull out a new shirt, dragging the one I have on up and off, and dropping it down in the dirty pile. As much as I want to be covered in Nadia, I need out of these filthy clothes.

Pulling the new shirt on, I jump up on my bunk, allowing my legs to dangle over the side while Zurita repeats the count.

“The fuck were you, Patton?” Ronald asks.

“I was busy.”

“No shit, numb nuts. Were you off with Officer Pierce?”

“I was, and that’s all the hell you’re getting. Don’t put your fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He clears his throat and keeps quiet. This is our friendship, and I like it this way; he is like an uncle who wants to pull the parent card but decides it is best to not push any further. We return to sitting in silence until the guards' shout and let everyone know that they are clear to go to the cafeteria. Ronald is out of his bed first, never missing a meal, and I jump down to follow him out. When we step out of the cell, I notice there are a few guards lingering around the door.

“Inmate Patton,” Officer Clark calls out, his partner and a rookie trailing behind him.

“Yeah?”

“Search time,” Clark announces.

“What, why?”

“Protocol,” says the rookie.

Boy, he is going to have one hell of a time here, I can tell that already.

The rookie seizes my arm and twists me around. My hands reaching out to press against the cinder block wall next to my cell door. Instinctively, I step to the side so he can get to the areas he needs to pat down.

Starting at my ankles, he rakes his hands up both legs, then moves on to the front of my hips. The back of my hips came next, followed by my waist. As he starts patting there, his movements begin to slow, and I look down, watching what the fuck he is doing.

“Sir,” the rookie called out, slipping his hand into my front pocket and digging around. When he pulls his hand out, there is a bag of coke, and my go wide.

What the fuck, where did that come from?

“What you got?

“Contraband.”

---