Page 12

Chapter ten

Nadia

Present Day

A nother day, another dollar. If you think about it, the prison pays me to babysit grown ass men, what a way to spend my day. Things were quiet there for a few, no one getting into fights, nothing bloody, and no fires, thank God. It was like there is something bigger and more foreboding coming, but none of us can put our finger on what.

When I woke up this morning, I could feel a shift, and I don’t like shifts. I don’t like changes I can’t see coming which is very unfortunate for me since my job alone is completely unpredictable. There is a semblance of normality, I guess, but not so much today. You can say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but that would be an understatement. I woke up tossed around, backwards, upside down, and under the damn mattress.

Everything is pissing me off too. The truck had a hard time starting this morning, then I spilled my freshly brewed coffee on my hands, burning the hell out of them. Plus, my uniform has some weird ass stain on it.

God, I hope it isn’t blood. I hate blood.

When I got off work yesterday, I had to make a stop at my main dealer’s apartment to pick up a new batch of powder, and it ended in a heated discussion where I was promptly told to go fuck myself. I would have, but the battery on my favorite toy is dead and I cannot seem to find the charging cable. Technology is amazing, but at the same time, it is a burden. We went from having to buy packs of double A batteries to fighting for chargers at the grocery store.

Needless to say, I’m frustrated.

One thing a lot of people seem to brush over in those who have been assaulted in the past is hyper-sexuality. I don’t truly consider myself hyper-sexual, but there are days where I could rival the stamina of a street whore. Today isn’t one of those days but it would be nice to have been able to take the edge off. Instead, the calls are coming every hour on the hour, almost like the inmates ganged up and decided to test my very, very short fuse today.

“Fuck him up!”

“Beat his ass, man!”

“Hah, what a punk bitch. Look at him take that beating like a fucking sissy.”

The commotion calls me from around the corner, causing me to rush and collide with the back of another inmate. Instinctively, I lift my hands and shove. When the body doesn’t move, I grab my retractable baton and start swinging. The metal clanks into place as I began shouting, other guards running up behind me to help intervene.

“Move out of the goddamn way!” I yell.

Swing.

“Oh fuck!” an inmate cries out.

Swing.

“Shit! Officer Pierce!”

Swing.

I keep swinging until the prisoner moves out of my way and I can see what is going on, my blood beginning to boil the longer the brutish inmates resist and fail to move. With one more resounding crack, I bring the harsh metal down on the back of an inmate’s knees, forcing him to drop down to the ground with a wail.

“I said, fucking MOVE!!”

“That’s enough, Pierce,” our lead guard shouts my way, making me ease up.

The group started to disperse giving me a view of the individual they were beating on. Poor guy, he hasn’t been here very long, maybe a few months. Young, probably one of the youngest ones in this entire prison. Stomping over, I reach down and pull the boy up from the floor, his breaths gurgling through the blood he has pouring out of his nose and mouth.

Great, I’m going to get another stain.

“Can you walk?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” he choks out, flinging droplets of blood all over me.

Another day, another bloody dollar.

“Come on, let me help you to the nurse. Get you patched up instead of bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“Thank you,” he responds.

I feel for him. I am typically very quiet, unless I am dealing with Kace, but something about this kid makes my heart hurt. His life is over, in a way, and it shouldn’t be. After being here for years and seeing how the people in here are locked away, having to fight for their lives on a daily basis, I can’t help but recognize a little of myself in the younger ones.

The further away we got, the more the noise of the others fades into nothing. The corridors are long and cold, but the inmate’s body pressed against the side of mine is kind of warm and comforting, or maybe it was him— he doesn’t seem so bad.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Tell me about yourself, inmate. I’ve seen you around.”

Though I don’t truly care about his story, I need to keep him conscious, and talking usually helps. It also distracts me from the weight of him leaning into me.

“Name is Erik, I’m from Washington. Here on terrorism charges.” His voice is warm, but has a slight twang to it that let me know he is lying.

Fuck, I hate when they lie.

“Where are you really from?”

I feel him tense against me, as if I am the one that has beat on him. After several silent steps, I heard him mumble.

“Louisiana, north part.”

“Explains the accent, why did you lie?”

“Respectfully, Officer, giving away too much information puts you in danger. Doesn’t matter who you share it with, just looking out for myself.”

“I can understand that. That how you got charged?”

“No ma’am. Participated in an incursion that went south—cops caught on quickly. Guess that’s what happens when you’re working with a bunch of amateurs. Why?”

“Just keeping you awake; I don’t really give a damn about why you’re here. I just have to keep you alive.”

I caught his smile out of the corner of my eye. Teeth bloody but he was still smiling like a goon.

“You’re the guard the other inmates talk about, right, Pierce? Vicious yet a few of us get the nicer side of you.”

“Don’t talk out of your ass, inmate.”

The way he chuckles, I can’t help but smile. Maybe I am warming up to some of them, I can’t be angry forever, right? The rest of the walk is filled with an odd but comfortable silence, our steps falling in line with the others. He even gained a bit more strength and walked straighter, as if the daze from getting his ass handed to him was beginning to wear off. When we made it to the medical bay, I pass him off to another guard, but before I could step out, his words catch my attention.

“Thank you again, Officer Pierce. I know this place is going to be hard on me, but having an officer who cares makes some things a bit more bearable.”

The other guard looks at me with an arched brow to which I just shrug. All I did was break up the fight, at least that’s how I see it. Despite having a shitty morning, and the prisoners testing every bit of patience I have today, that made me feel good for the first time in a long time.

“Mind your business,” was all I was able to huff at the other guard; his arched brow quickly lowering like he hadn’t listened to that brief exchange.

On my way back to where I’m supposed to be working, my radio chirps. Beyond the usual guard chatter and communications, that weird feeling returned. Something is definitely off, like a spidey-sense, then the alarms began to blare.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Picking my pace up into a run, I race down the hallway, rounding the last few corners until I was back in gen pop. Chest heaving, I look around to take quick assessment of the prisoners, and to see what is happening while the radio continued to go off. I immediately started clearing out the area, yelling for the inmates to get back in their cells, before finally getting wind of what was going on.

“Fire, C Block. Lockdown the other wings. Fire suppression is active.”

With a growl, I stomp out of gen pop and rush to the entrance to C Block. Guards are rushing inmates out of the hallways while others barricad the doors to keep foot traffic from moving inward, all while the suppression system did its thing.

“Are we missing anyone? Where did this shit start?”

“Cell 54. The Pyro is at it again.”

“The AB Pyro? The one that burned Chomo-Brooks?”

“Yeah, that one.”

This fucker has been running wild for months. He can fashion a fire out of just about anything, and likes to lock the inmates in their cells after he sets it off. I’ve only come in contact with him a couple of times, and each time he set me on edge; there is something severely wrong with him and I don’t believe it can be fixed without something drastic like a lobotomy.

“Fifty-four, fifty-four. Why does that sound familiar? Is everyone accounted for?” I ask, turning to look over the inmates that now line the wall behind me; guards watching them from every angle. I try to see each of their faces and make note of who was accounted for and who was missing.

“It’s the empty cell, which makes no sense. The Pyro usually has a target so this isn’t his MO.”

I paus at that, turning to look back at him while I chew at the bottom of my lip— thinking. I’m not an investigator so I don’t know why I am trying to put the pieces together but, dammit, I can’t shake what I’m feeling today.

We all stand there, waiting for the fire suppression system to get things under control. The best thing about Darkwater being in an old stone building is the fact that fires like this were easy to contain and extinguish, incapable of spreading through the concrete cells. It makes living situations colder but that helps slow down germs too—there is a reason for everything.

“All but two inmates are accounted for. We’re missing Patton and his cellmate, Winston.”

“Patton is at his work assignment right now,” I quickly snap. Ignoring the looks, I turn and stalk back down the hallway. I need to find his cellmate; that man, along with inmate Ayala, are the only two who keep Kace sane. If it wasn’t for them, I’m sure his psychologist would have carted him down for observation long ago. He’s considered a risk, and not because of anything he does, but the way other inmates lock in on him.

Much like I do.

While some try to recruit him by force, I aim to… well, I don’t really know anymore. I started off trying to establish dominance as a guard, and all that has gotten me is quite the reputation amongst these men. ‘Don’t fuck with Officer Pierce,’ is what the prisoners say. Half because I supply a chunk of them with drugs and the other half because I have dropped my fair share of inmates, including Kace. Then there are the occasional ones that I show sympathy towards, like the kid a little bit ago.

The other guards and staff can handle the fire, I need to find Kace. Something deep within me, along with the underlying annoyance and concern I have felt all day, fueled my need to lay eyes on him. One too many times have I had to pull prisoners off him. It’s like, if I can’t see him, I can’t protect him, then something worse can have already happened.

Before I realized it, my walk had increased into a run. I knew he was near the library today for his work assignment and I need to get there now.

Coming up on the double doors that lead out of the part of the prison that holds all the cells, I shove through it. The doors swing back so hard they crash against the brick wall. My eyes scan up and down the hallway, seeing the corridor was empty thanks to the prison being on lockdown. My boots thud on the concrete floor as I set off in another sprint. Taking a left, and after passing three doors, I came across the one that read ‘Library,’ and reach out to grip the door handle as a wave of unease washes through me.

Fuck, I am going crazy.

I would call it intuition, but when I have followed my gut feeling—at least in the past—I’ve been wrong. Finally opening the door, I walk through, and sitting there leaning back in a chair is Kace and across from him with a comic book is his bunkie. My blood boils at how nonchalant he looks leaning back, his feet kicked up on the table in front of him with his ankles crossed.

“You’re supposed to be in fucking rotation, Patton,” I snap.

Looking over his shoulder, those stupidly pretty ice blue eyes collide with mine and my throat closes. Was everything I am feeling fear? Was I actually worrying about him, or was this some subconscious concern due to my job?

“We were told to stay put because of the lockdown, Nadia,” Kace replies, turning to look at the other guy with a shrug, then back to his fucking book.

“It’s Officer, Patton, must I beat that into your thick skull? We’ve had this conversation one too many damn times.”

The more he spoke, the angrier I became. Everything is crashing down on me; this whole day is in shambles, and he has the audacity to sit there and speak to me with complete disregard for the chain of command. Stalking over, I grab the back of his jumper and yank, dislodging him from his seat, causing him to drop his precious literature. Being the taller one, he now towers over me, standing so damn close to me I could smell the scent of his body wash. Snapping my head to the side, I glare daggers at the other inmate until he stood up and left.

“Nadia…” Kace rumble.

I can’t contain the absolute insanity I’m experiencing, warmth creeping its way up the side of my neck and over my ears.

What the fuck.

“Watch it.”

“Or what, Nadia? I have half a mind to push every one of your buttons, right now. It looks like you’re about to snap, and I’d love to see how far you would go.”

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!”

Spinning him around, I reach for my handcuffs and secure them around his wrist. He stopped resisting me a long time ago, and I’m glad for that. I don’t know if I have the means to take him if he ever felt like fighting back. To others, this was an unfair display of power. To him, it was a game. To me, it was territorial. I want him, in any way I could have him, even if it’s illegal.

“Kace…” I murmur, swallowing through the remaining tightness in my throat as I lead him out of the library. To where, I have no damn clue, but I will figure it out. All I know is that we need to get out of open space, and if my mind doesn’t quiet down soon, I am going to scream.

Holding onto his arm with what felt like a death grip, I walk quickly in the opposite direction I arrived from. In the past few years, I have learned that the longer the hallway was, the less likely someone would come barreling down it, which works out great for me. That’s how I got some of my merchandise moved through the prison. I’d meet with an inmate who would push it the rest of the way out to the population; I would make the initial delivery to him in exchange for the cash. Every week it was a different location and a different inmate, anything to keep from getting caught.

I’ve never taken Kace down this far, usually keeping us both out in the open so the rumor mill didn’t take off, keeping my name clear.

Coming to the end of the corridor, I look back over my shoulder to make sure we were alone while stepping up to the door that connected this wing with the basement. There are only a few entrances, most of them blocked to prevent use since the basement has been deemed unsafe, even by prison standards. Grabbing the door handle, I wrench the door open before shoving Kace inside.

“Nadia, have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“What? No, I—.”

“You were what, kidnapping me? Jesus Christ, I knew you were on edge today, but dragging me off to…” He pauses, looking around the room that sat just beyond the threshold. The single door that opens up to the stairs that leads to the basement on the other side of the room.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“The old basement entrance. They use this room for storage for the most part, but that door over there takes you down into the pit.”

“The pit?”

“Yeah, think of it as the morgue and seg before human rights activists had a field day and the former warden had it closed up.”

I watch him closely as he looks around, his wrists still bound behind his back while he peers every which way. With space between us, and the lack of hostility, I take the time to look at him, and I mean really look. If he was anyone else, he would be rushing me right now, either out of violence or survival, but Kace just stood there, curiously looking at some of the junk left behind.

“How do you know about this place?”

“I know of all the entrances, I need something to do on night shift while you’re getting your beauty sleep, inmate.”

I don’t know how or why, but I feel comfortable here with him. Come to think about it, I always feel like this with Kace around —even when I am being a nuisance to him. He must hate me for that, hate me for the things I have done to him, hate me for… for assaulting him.

“Kace…” His name was out of my mouth before I could stop it. When he turns and looks at me, I see myself looking back. The younger version of me who was forced to her knees and was taken advantage of—I’m a monster. I was right the other day; I am just like them.

“I—I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y—you know.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Why don’t you spell it the fuck out, Nadia.”

Great, now he is mad at me, rightfully so though, so he can have that one. Finally, Kace turns to look my way as I cross my arms over my chest and let my eyes fall to the floor, pushing an invisible stone along the hard surface with the toe of my boot. Maybe if I don’t look at him, he will give me a break and say that it wasn’t necessary, but alas, I’m not that fortunate.

“You’re really going to make me say it all out loud?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’ve been a cunt; I think you’ve earned the way it makes you feel.”

Heavy silence settles between us, a knot in my throat once more, because that fucking stings. He is right though; I deserve to feel this way even if the resistant side of me refuses to admit any of it. Just as I start to open my mouth, his slides enter my field of vision, standing only about a foot away from my own.

“Eyes up, Officer Pierce. Let me see you.”

His voice is so calm, smooth, soothing.

Begrudgingly, I tilt my head and look up; he sure is a handsome fucker.

“There you are. Now, go on and say it.”

Is he a sadist? He sure as fuck seems like one.

“I’m sorry for taking your commissary funds. I’m sorry for canceling and blocking your visitation. I…”

“Don’t stop now, you’re doing so good.”

Why is that comforting?

“I’m sorry for always using excessive force, for alienating you, for talking down to you and—and I’m sorry for assaulting you. I know the words don’t make up for the shit I have done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just know what it’s like to be on the receiving end and I’ve been punishing myself for it ever since.”

The weight of the apology was so fucking suffocating, and it doesn’t make me feel better. The day hasn’t made any sort of improvement. It’s been an absolute shit show, but now that I am standing here with him, confessing all my wrongs, I thought maybe—just maybe—there was a light switch somewhere that could be turned on.

“Take the handcuffs off of me.”

“What… No, I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, yes you are. And once you have, I’m going to fucking hold you because I know you’re broken, Nadia. I can see it in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. Now, be my good girl, and take off the fucking cuffs.”

What the fuck was he talking about? Better yet, how could he see it?

Pinching my brows together, I gave him my biggest ‘go to hell’ look and didn’t bother moving. The man stands there like he is waiting in line to vote or something else equally boring—passive and unimpressed. After taking a couple of breaths, he turns around and presents his wrists to me to which I moved on impulse. This is a bad idea; I should never be alone with an inmate, let alone not have them restrained.

Closing the distance between us, I reach for my keys that hang from my duty belt. Once I found the one I need, I slide it into the locking mechanism and gave it a quick turn, allowing the bolts and pins to open and release the bar that keeps the cuffs in locked, only to repeat the same motions with the other one. Once he was free, I attach them and the keys back to my duty belt as Kace rubs his reddened wrists.

“That’s better,” he said.

Without missing a beat, his hand shot out, grabbing the front of my shirt, and yanked me to him, causing me to crash against his body, feeling both arms tightening over my shoulders, squeezing me against his body.

Shit, he feels good. This feels good.

Warmth instantly spreads through my chest while he holds me close, his nose buried in my hair, which is odd right? It takes me a moment to reciprocate, my arms sliding around his waist, hands gripping the middle of his back while I press my head to his chest.

I’m in so much fucking trouble.

“Not so bad is it, snitch?”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” I answer back.

We stay there for several minutes, the sound of his heart thumping wildly against my ear. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me, let alone held me like he did—his hands now brushing idly up and down my back. After all the things I have done to this man, standing here wrapped in his embrace as if I was the one who has been tormented for years, was not something I ever expected. Definitely not on my yearly bingo card.

“Good, good,” he murmurs. His large hands drifting up my back, then to my arms and over my shoulders. I could feel him starting to pull away.

No, please— please don’t move yet.

“Because it’s my turn.”

“Huh?” I asked.

Both of his hands cup my face just then, tilting it up to look him dead in the eye, allowing me to see the change cross over his features. Dread hits me in the gut when his right hand quickly clamps around the front of my throat and he shoves me back against the wall.

“I said… it’s my turn.”