Page 32 of Endangered Species
Not there, though. Nicky would have hated it there. The noise never stopped in the hallway, whether it was the hum of the electricity in the walls or the screaming of the other inmates as they slowly went mad from the time spent alone. It would have all been too much for his sensitive boy.
Cy flinched at the sound of metal scraping metal as a guard slid his meal tray through the slot in the door. He grimaced at the two slices of bread and watery oatmeal, but he ate it anyway, barely tasting it, far more worried about Nicky than he was about the food or even his own state of mind.
As he ate, he contemplated how quickly his priorities had changed. All Cy had cared about a month ago was getting out of prison in the next year and never looking back. Then Nicky had shown back up in his life and changed everything. Or maybe nothing had changed. Maybe Nicky had always been Cy’s to protect. As weird as it sounded, it felt true. Cy liked taking care of Nicky, and he loved how much Nicky wanted Cy to take care of him, even when he was fully capable of caring for himself. Or he would have been if the universe had any interest in fighting fair.
Cy had understood what he was signing on for by putting Thor out of commission, yet sacrificing his freedom for Nicky’s life had been the easiest decision he’d ever made. The moment he’d seen Nicky’s battered body, the garish purple fist-sized bruises overshadowing the finger and palm-shaped marks Cy had left himself, he’d known he had to do something drastic, had to let people know that touching what was his had consequences. And Nicky was his. Always had been. He’d live in this hellscape forever if it meant Nicky was protected.
But now that he was there, in the hole, there was no real way to know if Nicky was safe or not.
The sound of keys scraping against metal outside yanked Cy from his thoughts. When he saw Rogers in the doorway, he clenched his teeth so he didn’t say something that was liable to get him dead.
“How’s it going, inmate? When I heard you were in the SHU, I had to come see for myself. I thought maybe you’d finally taken out your revenge fantasy on your little boy toy cellmate. Imagine my surprise when I find out that you tried to kill his attacker instead.”
Cy didn’t speak, just drew his knees up, resting his elbows there so his hands were in plain view. He didn’t want Rogers to think there was anything threatening about his posture.
Rogers wandered the tiny cell, his hand on his weapon. “I don’t get it. I really don’t. That kid cost you twenty years, man. Twenty years and you decide to keep him as a pet?” Cy tracked Rogers as he spoke. “I mean, like I know you boys get horny in here, but you’d rather fuck him than finish him off? It don’t make no sense. Frankly, we’re baffled.”
Cy snorted. “Maybe it’s because I’m not the monster you think I am? Maybe it’s because, even at seventeen, I knew none of what happened to me was the fault of one six-year-old boy. You’re the ones who dangled him in front of me like a piece of raw meat, hoping I’d tear him apart. You act like we’re animals but what does that make you? Setting him up to be raped, murdered, why? Huh? Do you even know, Rogers? Or are you just following orders?”
Rogers’ face contorted with rage. “You know what, inmate? I don’t like your tone.”
Cy gave him a smile. “You know what, boss? Not a fan of yours either, if we’re being honest.”
“You really think your boy is any safer just because you took Thor out of commission? You think there aren’t a dozen others who’d easily pass him around until there was nothing left? All you did was delay the inevitable and piss off the warden.” He came to squat in front of Cy, making sure to stay just out of reach. “That’s why I’m here. I needed to let you know that you’re officially removed from the canine service program.”
Cy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from asking about Rosie, but there was no need. “Don’t worry, though,” Rogers said as he stood and walked to the door. “Your dog failed out of the program. She’ll be on her way to the shelter by morning. I hear pitbulls don’t fare well at the shelters. It’s a shame. I know how much you loved that dog.”
Cy waited until he was certain Rogers was gone before flinging his tray across the room with a hoarse shout. “Fuck!” he yelled, punching the wall the way he wanted to punch Rogers, letting his fist fly again and again until the pain made him woozy and his blood painted the egg white yellow bricks.
When he stumbled back onto his mat, his hand looked like ground beef and throbbed in time with his accelerated heart rate. It wasn’t until rounds that the guard noticed Cy’s injury, alerting the other officers and transporting him to the infirmary.
The infirmary was quiet with only two other inmates seeking treatment. One was asleep on a bed in the corner, and another was having a cut on the forehead sealed closed with medical glue. Cy laid on his bed, his uninjured hand cuffed to the steel frame.
When the nurse finally made it to Cy, she tsked at the mess of his hand. She was an older woman with silver curls pulled back into a ponytail and a flinty gaze that saiddon’t fuck with mefar better than words ever could. She donned gloves and rolled her stool to his bedside, probing Cy’s hand, ignoring his grunts of pain.
She shook her head. “You need x-rays. You might have several broken bones.”
“No. No x-rays. Patch him up so we can take him back to the hole.”
The woman turned to glare at the guard who spoke. “Who the hell are you?”
The overly muscled guard smirked at the older woman. “Perkins. I’m new. Warden says to patch him up and send him back to solitary.”
She fixed him with a flat stare. “Luckily, I don’t answer to you or the warden. Dr. Mitchell will be here in the morning. You can tell her why you refused needed medical care to a patient.” Perkins rolled his eyes at the woman but then turned back to his post. She gave Cy a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to get this cleaned up and wrapped. I’ll keep you here overnight and have Mitchell look at you in the morning. She’ll make sure you get the care you need.”
Cy nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. Rosie. Had they already taken her back to the facility? Would they take her tomorrow? He wished he had somebody he could call, somebody who would take care of her until he was free. It hit him then. He was likely never going free. Nicky would. If he could get a message to Nicky, maybe one of his friends could go get Rosie. Could find her a good home.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Cy muttered. “Fine.”
She smiled as she dabbed his bloody knuckles with something that stung. “You don’t sound very convincing.”
Cy turned his attention to the tiny older woman, noticing her leopard print cat eye glasses for the first time. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s just you and me and the coma guy over there until Mitchell gets in at seven. I’ve got time.”
Cy laughed despite himself. “Are you allowed to call your patient ‘coma guy’?”
