Page 136 of Ghosts Don't Cry

“Oliver, you too. Visitor.”

My stomach drops. Only one person might try to find me here, and I don’t want to face her. I don’t want to see her in this place. But when the guard leads me into the visitation room—all hard plastic chairs and metal tables bolted to the floor—it’s my old history teacher sitting there.

Mr. Edwards.

“Hello, Ronan.”

I frown, and glance over at the guard, who nods. I sit down, but I don’t acknowledge him. Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the scratched surface of the table between us.

He sets something down. A book. An engineering manual. It’s new. Clean. The spine unbroken.

“I thought you might find this interesting.” His voice carries the same steady tone from his classroom. “The section on electrical systems is particularly detailed.”

I stare at the wall behind him. Edwards waits, patient, behaving like he has all the time in the world.

“Lily talks about you,” he says quietly. “I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

My fingers curl into fists, and I shake my head, once.

He studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “All right. Well, the book is yours. The guards have already said it’s allowed. I’ll bring you another one next month.”

He does.

The pattern repeats with each visit. He brings me books—sometimes they’re manuals, sometimes they’re fiction. He tries to mention her name a couple more times, and I shut it down every time. I don’t need to say a word. I simply stand up and walk out. Eventually he learns. I’ll sit and listen to him talk, but some topics aren’t up for discussion. Some wounds I won’t let him touch.

Riley notices the books, and the way I study them between work details, during rest times, at meals.

“Smart,” he says one day in the yard. “Learning shit that’ll keep you out when you get out. Better than ending up like Jackson. All he knows how to do is break things.”

By my second year, I’ve developed a reputation. I’m the guy who can fix anything. Guards and prisoners bring me broken radios, fans that won’t spin, electrical outlets that spark. Each repair is currency—protection, extra library time, sometimes even extra food.

Reese tries once more to exert control. He sends two of his crew to corner me in the shower block. But prison has fed me, regular meals and exercise have ensured all the sharp edges of starvation have been replaced with muscle. Riley has taught me how to protect myself. The fight ends quickly with me still standing.

After that, they leave me alone.

I learn more than how to fix things. I learn patience and strategy. With Riley’s help, I figure out when it’s best to speak up and when I should stay silent.

“You’re not like the rest of them,” he tells me one afternoon. We’re working a detail in the machine shop, and he’s showing me how to operate the equipment. “You’ve got a spark inside you kid. Once you’re out, you won’t be coming back in here.”

Edwards never misses a month. Rain or shine, he’s always there.

In my third year, during a particularly brutal winter, I finally speak to him.

“Why do you keep coming?”

He doesn’t act surprised or celebrate the breakthrough. He just takes out a new book and sets it on the table between us.

“Because someone should.”

I think about Lily, and how she used to say those exact words.

“I’m not worth saving.”

“Everyone is worth saving, Ronan.” He opens the book. “Especially the people who don’t believe it themselves. Besides, I’m not trying to save you. I’m just making sure you have options when you get out.”

After that, things shift. I start talking to him. He brings more books, giving me more ways to keep my mind busy, while my body serves its time.

During yard time, I trade skills for ink. Riley is talented with a makeshift gun, and the guards look away as long as we’re careful. I get small pieces at first. Words that mean something only to me.