Page 6 of Blackout: Book Two

“That’s a mighty big threat for someone who don’t want any trouble,” I volley, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against the wall.

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” he corrects, keeping his tone even and his eyes on the ceiling. I contemplate answering him but decide my newfound cellmate ain’t worth my fucking spit. I also decide I’m going to rip the picture of his boy in half when he goes to sleep. Maybe then the motherfucker won’t be so quick to threaten to slice my throat.

“Bishop,” he grunts.

The one word forces me to lift my eyes to his.

“Excuse me?”

“My name,” he replies. “It’s Bishop.”

I don’t give a fuck what his name is.

The motherfucker made an enemy today. He’ll be lucky if I let him live to see tomorrow.

“That’s your cue.”

“I don’t take cues from anyone,” I tell him as I push off the wall and make my way towards the bottom bunk. Folding my frame onto the cot, I stare at his bunk and try to drown out the noise on the cell block. Bishop doesn’t say another word and soon the correctional officer calls lights out.

I don’t sleep.

I don’t even close my eyes.

It’s not fear that keeps me awake. I know if I close my eyes, I’ll see Lacey’s face. It’ll start off as a dream. I’ll relive all the good. Every beautiful smile and all the I love you's. The nights we spent laughing, fucking and loving. I’ll see those two pink lines and that grainy sonogram. Then I’ll think about the names she’s picked and maybe even say them aloud while I sleep. Soon the dream will turn to a nightmare and all I’ll hear are her cries. All I’ll see is the pain reflected in her eyes as she begs me to look at her. I’ll plead for my subconscious to stop inflicting torture on me and when it doesn’t, I’ll wish for poison.

Just one hit.

A tiny rip.

A single prick of the needle.

I’ll get nothing.

My eyes drift upward again, and I wonder if Bishop is a man of his word. If there’s hope he’ll be the one who puts me out of my fucking misery once and for all.

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