Page 129 of Grace

Damn...

This was going to be a long night.

An abrupt thump on the mattress spurred me from my sleep. My eyes pried open, and I realized I was facing Jas’ side of the bed. His pillow was dented and empty. Then I forced my heavy body to twist so I could lift from my arms. The room was dark but for the recess lights out in the hallway, one door open, allowing the illumination.

Jas was at the foot of the bed, one arm stretched forward. My pulse quickened. It was happening again. Jas was subconsciously awake…so, I figured. To me, it resembled sleepwalking. He was totally naked; waist tapered, back chiseled, and shoulders wide and carved. No matter how big and strong he appeared, Jas was also perceptively vulnerable.

The balls of my eyes scanned the massive suite. “Jas,” I whispered. “Bu-baby…”

This shit was crazy. I couldn’t leave him like this. It didn’t feel good. Unlike the last time, I now felt responsible for him—likefor real. My feelings for the guy had grown exponentially. So, gently, I crept down the bed, being sure to make my movements stealth. I didn’t want to scare him awake.

“Ja—” I shrieked, jumping off the bed when his torso whipped around and he nudged me away, applying a level of strength I didn’t know from him.

My chest heaved and I leaned away from him, holding myself protectively, suddenly afraid. But then Jas resumed the position and extended his arm. This jailhouse bullshit was insane, but I couldn’t leave him. He was alone, in his mind. I wanted to be with him, bring him out of that…psychotic place. Mental diagnosis be damned; he was a real human being, not a damn caged animal in a thuggery gymnasium.

“You got me fucked up,” his tone gravely thick, words choppier but just as piercing. His top lip curled upward and nostrils spread similar to when he attacked Jonathan in St. Vincent, only his pitch wasn’tthisdark. I trembled helplessly. “Try that shit again, nigga.” His head jerked back and forth, emphasizing his words. “I’m snappin’ ya fuckin’ neck. You read my paperwork. Ask around, my nigga. My work legendary. You heard about me?”

His inflection increased with that question, eerily relative.AndI believed every word of his threat. Jas had definitely transported away from here. My mouth felt like sandpaper, bladder began to dance from anxiety.

Baby, wake up. Come back to me…

My heart bled, twisting in my chest.What to do?Suddenly, I questioned my safety.Maybe I should call Juggy for help. Would he snap Juggy’s neck? He could neverhurt—

Jas mumbled, “Sinclair 92810-752.”

Stunned, my eyes blossomed wide. He’d repeated the same amount of syllables as the last time I’d seen him in this state. But tonight, the word was clearer. Jas said ‘Sinclair.’ He called me Mrs. Sinclair earlier. He hadn’t lied. His name was Sinclair.

It’s fucking freezing in here…

Again. My body shivered, hands were numbing, cold as fucking ice cubes. The coat and blanket was never enough for the brutal winters. I was alone in my cell, which was cool on most days, but at least when the temperatures were this low, having another body could mean a little more heat. But I was in the hole now, Satan’s den. It wasn’t always decorated with fire that burned.

It felt like I’d just gotten into a warm position when count time came around. This shit was driving me crazy. I hadn’t been outside in three days and the food was shitty and cold. Something in here bit me the other day, and now there was a fucking rash on my leg. These niggas wouldn’t even let me go to the infirmary to get it checked out. So between that and the damn cold, I felt fucking defeated once again.

I had too many days left in my sentence to bitch up. Way too many. Couldn’t crack now. Prison was tough, but solitary confinement was torture. Each day you sank deeper, the devil’s presence became more acute, the value of your life decreased, and hope seeped from your soul, moment by moment.

So, having to wake from preferred sleep to do a fucking count had me wondering why was I doing this again today? Shivering, I asked myself why waste my time trying to do the bid. Why not end it all here? What was so fucking important on the other side of my sentence to get to? More bullshit?

I’d have to table that thought because the footsteps grew nearer, keys clanging against each other. Then the small sliding window on the door to my cell opened.

Knowing the play, I gave him what he wanted. I pushed my hand through the small opening so he could read the identification on my wrist bracelet.

Then I recited the usual. “Sinclair 92810-752.”

Out of nowhere, the shivering slowed to a stop. Then my body tensed. Goddamn, my groin tickled in a way I ain’t feel since before turning myself in to NPD. Not wanting to give in to any sensation, especially one feeling this fucking good in this place, I steeled, tensing my whole body to end the shit. But my dick started growing and my whole body heated up.

What the fuck, yo!

Not in here. Not in here! I jerked off on occasion, hell yeah. But not in here. This place didn’t give space for a mental escape. I always had to be on my toes, ready to fucking kill. That’s how I got thrown in the hole this time. I’d choked a nigga out for cutting in front of me like I was a pussy. They tried me in here because I was new. This was a fucking low security facility, I’d run through all these muthafuckas in here, eating their asses for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I knew it had to start this way, but shit…

Never did I think the devil gave head.

That’s what I felt, small fists around my shit, stroking me. I felt a glop of spit hit me, that shit felt good, too. Damn, my legs were broken apart, giving deeper access down my shaft. Now, I was feeling like shit because I didn’t put up a real fight to keep them together.

This what they did in fucking Colorado, man?

There were goddamn ghosts in the bitch, fondling niggas? Oh, hell no!

The shit felt good, the grip on my cock just right.

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