Page 11 of Shadowman

Someone up the row yells at him toshut the fuck up, but I know it’s pointless. You have to just let him ride it out, which is unfortunate for me more than anyone else, since I have to share a cell, and a rickety bedframe, with this chaos.

I’m used to it by now, though. Kieran O’Malley’s been my cellmate for almost a year, and honestly, his night terrors are the tip of the goddamn iceberg. Just one of the many, let’s call themeccentricities, he possesses that make living with him nonstop unhinged fuckery around every corner.

It’s sorta like living with an abusive, alcoholic stepdad…You never know what to expect, but at least the constant unease keeps you on your toes.

Tonight’s episode is a bit higher on the Richter scale of his issues, which is good, in a way, because it’s distracting me from whatIwas experiencing in dreamland—probably not as atrocious as his, but still fucking painful. The more inmates arewoken up by his shouting, the more noise echoes through the row, and eventually, one of the guards shows up.

“O’Malley, I swear to fucking God…” Linetti growls as he storms over to our cell. “Everyone, shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t bother,” I hiss, launching out of bed. “I got this.”

Grabbing O’Malley by the ankles, I drag him off of the top bunk. You’d think his body crashing onto the concrete from several feet in the air would wake him up, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. He’s still freaking the fuck out, wriggling around as I straddle him, attempting to hold him down. He manages to knee me in the kidney, and now I’m fucking pissed.

“Okay, fuck this shit,” I growl.

It’s the middle of the night. I’m tired, and grouchy, and I can still smell the rain…Feelit falling over me, cooling my stiflingly hot skin…

“I didn’t do it! Yer a liar!” O’Malley chokes. “Get off!”

He’s really struggling beneath me, fighting to get me off of him, and it’s working up with the images in my head; blinding me in a haze of agonizing nostalgia.

“Stop fighting!” I snarl and smack him hard across the face. “Youasked for this…”

I smack him again, and I think it wakes him up. But it’s too fucking late now…

I’m already gone.

Next thing I know, I’m choking him, and he’s punching me, and Linetti is stomping inside our cell to rip us apart.

Just another night in Alabaster Pen.

“You need to tighten yer grip,” O’Malley breathes, once Linetti is gone and everything’s back to normal. “I been choked harder by my ninety-year-old grandmum on her deathbed.”

I huff and spit some blood into the sink. “Funny. How’s that handprint on your face feel?”

He’s visibly trying to smother his grin as he works his jaw. “You slap like a girl, too.”

“Your mom didn’t complain when I was leaving that same mark on her ass,” I snicker.

“Fook off.” He chuckles as he hoists himself back up into his bed.

I crash onto mine. “Sweet dreams, Shamrockstar.”

“Fook off twice.”

And he’s one of my closest friends.

Some might say O’Malley and I have a dysfunctional relationship. But Idefy youto show me a relationship in prison thatisn’tdysfunctional. After all, we’re the most morally corrupt, heinous criminals in the country—or even the world—locked up together in concrete hell.It’s not exactly a fifth-grade sleepover.

Instead of pillow fights and braiding each other’s hair, we get tattoos and try to kill each other. As far as the guards are concerned, as long as no one dies, it’s a good night. And I’d have to agree.What’s a little harmless bloodshed between friends?

Scrapping with O’Malley is helpful in at least one way… It puts me out like a light. No more gnawing dreams.

Yup. Everything’s back to normal.

The endless cycle of nothingness continues.

The next morning, we’re being herded to the cafeteria like half-dead cattle when someone breathes by my ear, “Wait till you peep what I’ve got stashed in my pants.”