Page 64 of Brainwashed

“Boxers,” I mumble. “I would like some boxer briefs.”

His head slopes in that pleased way. Because he won.

Sure enough, only a few hours later while I’m scampering around my padded cell, Claude the orderly drops by to deliver me a gift.

It’s a pair of yellow Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The color isn’t one I would have expected, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it. There’s no color in this damn place. I miss the brightness outside these walls.

“There are more pairs in your locker,” Claude informs me. Then he leaves without another word.

I can’t even pretend I’m not swooning right now. I can’t believe Dr. Love, the emotionless robot doctor, actually gave me a gift. And from the way he was acting earlier, hereallywanted to be the one to give me these soft goodies.

Pushing down my loose jumpsuit pants, I step into my new boxers, yanking them up. They fit perfectly. I spend a few minutes just twirling around my cell in my new Calvins. I even take my shirt off and launch into push-ups and crunches. Because being in sexy underwear gives my mood a boost, for sure.

While I work out, my mind wanders.

If Dr. Love gave me this, I wonder what else he would give me? Clearly, he doesn’t want me attempting to trade sex for goods, like the rest of the prisoners do. Even though, despite my big talk earlier, I’m sure he was right. No one would come near me for that sort of thing. I’ve been here for months. If it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t. I’m too isolated. Since the moment I set foot in Alabaster Penitentiary, I’ve been kept separate from the rest of the prisoners, and even a majority of the guards. It’s very alienating. And lonely.

That was why I begged and pleaded for a cellmate when I was still upstairs and could have one. And sure, the satisfaction I got from killing Ivan Wilkerson was exactly what I needed. But I still miss being around other people. I miss watching them go about their days, blissfully unaware of me lurking in the shadows.

Being locked away in the East Wing is like a new level of my invisibleness. I hate it.

It’s probably why I’ve become so swept up in Dr. Love. He’s the only person I have.

Well, him and…

The sound of garbled cries draws my attention to the closest person I have to a cellmate. The only human being I get to interact with besides the ones who were hired to do so.

Crawling over to the wall that separates us, I knock on it. “Hey, pal. Wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck off,” O’Malley grumbles at me, sounding like he’s splintering over there.

It’s the perfect opportunity for me to fuck with him some more.

“That’s no way to speak to your only friend,” I hum, leaning up against the padded wall.

“Yer not meh friend!” he howls, then goes back to sobbing.

“Okay, but there’s obviously something you want to get off your chest.” I keep needling. “It’s eating you alive, Kieran. If you don’t get it out, it’ll drive youcrazy.”

He sniffles. “I’m not crazy…”

“Right.” I roll my eyes.

“Fuck you, killer! I’m nothing like you,” he screams.

The words bounce around in my brain. Just like that day, in the cafeteria.

That’s what he said to me. It intrigued me more than anything, but now that I’ve been sharing a wall with him for weeks, it’s bringing my urges up to the surface of my skin. Like an antibody that lies dormant in my blood until certain circumstances release it.

It sizzles and smolders, plaguing my muscles with the need to unleash.

I want to kill you, Kieran O’Malley.

I doze off to the sounds of the Irishman crying, my head swarmed with thoughts. But I still don’t dream. My dreams are long gone, and at this point, I’m sure they’re never coming back.

No more extravagant adventures. No more harmonies and luscious tingles of subconscious arousal.

No more color.