Page 30 of The Freshman

When Marie offered him a lift home, hedidn’t refuse her despite the odd look Glen gave him, and as soonas he set foot in the house he rushed to the curtains and drew themto block out the sign for Larkwood.

Laying on the sofa, sleep refused tocome. It denied him in bed too, and he ended up staring at hispanic blown reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair wasruffled, his flesh was clammy, and halfmoons of grey were formingunder his eyes.

Him and Nate were playing a game, agame he thought he was on top of, but he was wrong.

Alfie tilted his head back andclutched at his throat. No marks from Nate’s teeth, just pale fleshunder his fingertips, but it didn’t feel the same. Nate hadinfected him, his skin didn’t just tingle at his voice, but histouch, and his scent. Nate had started to take over Alfie’s body,and he didn’t know how it had happened, or how to stopit.

He had surrendered his throat to Nate,wouldn’t have fought him off whether he kissed or bit. Instead,Nate had nipped, and Alfie had moved his body into the path ofmore. If that had been in the darkness of a club it would’ve beenfine, but at Larkwood, with a violent prisoner, it couldn’t getfarther from fine. Nate Mathews, triple murder with the details ofhis crime so bad it made the staff shudder.

He stared in the mirror and questionedwhy his body betrayed him, but there was no answer, just a face ofconfusion staring back.

Alfie ducked down suddenly and bracedhimself over the sink. He didn’t vomit, but his stomach clenched,and the vice didn’t loosen no matter how much he rubbed to soothit.

He couldn’t do the roll-call. Hecouldn’t risk bumping into Nate after his skype call. He had toleave. That was the only option. The staff were unprofessional,worn down by years of the same old thing, but Alfie was new,thought he was a good worker, an efficient one, and it was himstepping over an unforgivable line, not them.

He wondered what would’ve happened ifthe lights had stayed off, if it had been just him and Nate in thedarkness of his cell. His heart sped up beneath his ribs, and heballed his hand into a fist and hit himself like an ape drummingits chest. His heart was not supposed to act that way. It wassupposed to freeze in terror, not throb with anticipation. Bloodwasn’t meant to flow south, and he wasn’t supposed to lick his lipsimagining Nate’s pressed to his.

Alfie had heard of others that hadfallen for prisoners, and they weren’t regarded in a good light.They were considered worse than those that smuggled drugs, worsethan those that accepted bribes. Getting involved with a prisonerwas traitorous, moving from the side of the light to that of thedark. Henry told him both men and women had been caught up in thetumbling ball of lust, and it never ended well.

The only option was quitting. Alfiecould leave, barely clinging to his dignity before he lost it alltogether. He would lose the house, his stable job, but at least hewouldn’t lose his mind.

He lifted his head, stared into hisdetermined eyes, then nodded.

****

Alfie sighed for the fiftieth time onthe way to the prison. He tightened his hand around his scrawledletter of resignation. He had thought about emailing it, but knewRyan would scoff and call him pathetic. He would do it face to faceand leave without a scowling.

Alfie hadn’t changed out of his workclothes, and the stale trousers smelled worse in the sunlight. Ashe walked, he straightened his tie and tucked in his shirt. Hecouldn’t hide the bags under his eyes, but he could at leastsmarten himself up.

He knew he would have to work twoweeks of notice, but he could avoid Nate for that long. He only hada skype call once a month, and Glen and Marie could take a weekeach on the top level after he’d done it nonstop.

Nate would protest, Alfie was sure ofit, but he could cope with two weeks of cell banging when freedomwas on the other side.

The reception staff frowned at him,and he flashed them his ID card. They called through to Ryan’soffice, and he told Alfie to wait in the corridor until he wascalled in. It was the first time he’d seen the corridor in the daytime since his interview. It felt less suffocating, which wasridiculous when there were more people moving about, and gatesswinging open and closed.

He seated himself on a chair outsideRyan’s office and waited with his head bowed like a naughty childsent to the headmaster.

“OfficerAlfie?”

He looked up at the voice and blinkedat the sight of Queenie. His lips were painted red, the sameluscious shade of his nails, and his eyelashes were dark and long.He looked good, healthy and happy, compared to the last time Alfiehad seen him. His glamourous appearance was only dulled by the blueapron he wore around his chest, and the mop and bucket in hishands.

“Are you moving to dayshift?”

Alfie shook his head and tapped hisletter to his hand. “No, erm. I—I don’t think I’ll be staying heremuch longer.”

Queenie’s face sagged, but his eyeswidened. He dropped into the chair next to Alfie, and Alfie openedhis mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. It was either sit for afew minutes with Queenie or sit alone, and he didn’t want to listento anymore of his internal monologue.

“Why?” Queenieasked.

Alfie shrugged. “I don’t think this isfor me.”

“How long you beenhere?”

“About seven monthsnow.”

Queenie nodded. “It took you sevenmonths to realize it wasn’t for you?”

Alfie didn’t answer. He lifted hisgaze to Ryan’s door and prayed it would swing open.

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