Chapter 11
SINN'OUS
Satan’s presence coats every follicle of space, both in his cell and in his body. He exists because Satan decrees it. He kills because Satan decrees it. His every breath is dedicated to Satan.
So when he finds times like these, where he can lay back in his bunk and bask in the glow of all the satanic scripture decorating his walls, he becomes murderous when someone decides it’s a smart idea to disrupt him.
He doesn’t disguise his irritation when he casts his gaze over his body to the freshly opened cell door. Rogers is standing in his space swimming in a cloud of judgement.
“Are you going to share or continue to disrupt my morning.” It’s not a question, he doesn’t want an answer but will take one if it gets the guard gone sooner.
Rogers throws a glance to the side, checking the platform’s length for prying ears. “Just left the south corridor, and Jasper hiding out in the showers. Why do you have to torment the kid?”
Sinn'ous declines to answer, steepling his fingers over his chest he makes like a deceased body in a coffin, head laid back to stare unblinking at the ceiling. “Why do you assume it’s me.” It’s not a question, not really. He knows the answers and if Rogers divulges his take on the issue, so be it.
“Because I know you.” Rogers steps into the cell, looking down on Sinn'ous’s prone form. “He doesn’t deserve to be here, and definitely doesn’t deserve to have you fucking with his head.”
“If you really must know.” Sinn'ous sits up abruptly, swinging his legs off the bunk, causing Rogers to stumble a healthy step back. “I haven’t touched him. So whatever you think you know, you’re not even close.”
“Then why is he on edge like someone’s gunning for him?”
“Showers you said.” Sinn'ous redirects the conversation onto a new path. Standing to his full height and straightening out his crumpled prison greys.
“I left him alone. Figured he could use the break. Break from you.”
“I told you.”
“I know, I know. But I don’t believe you.” Rogers holds a hand up to lessen the blow. “But I’m not getting involved. It’s not my business, just. . .” He bites his lip and glances away. “Don’t kill the kid. Okay?”
Sinn'ous offers nothing further towards the discussion and Rogers bows out, a look of dejection on his face, leaving the cell to do whatever it is he should be doing that isn’t getting up in Sinn'ous’s business.
On a whim Sinn'ous scoops some of his commissary purchases up, bringing the food with him out of the cell. His prey is vulnerable and what better way to coax a skittish doe then to offer it treats.
He leaves the food under Jasper’s pillow, its packaging is noticeable but not overtly so. The sheet on the other hand is a ruffled mess. His hands float their way to flattening the small creases into smooth submission.
The urge to upend Reni’s bunk is irresistibly tempting, but he kills the urge. The knowledge that the bothersome man is in The Hole is enough to satiate his hunger. For now.
He carries his strung-out body from the cell, each step a lead weight tied to his ankles. Barely three steps out a familiar head of hazelnut hair is coming up the stairs.
Trapped on the platform, Sinn'ous has no place to go, and he isn’t ready to broadcast his intention. The boy isn’t ready for it.
He manages to duck into another’s cell unseen, his lungs tight to match his balled fists. The organ racing to the finish line, reminding him he is alive and in need of killing someone else’s organ. To draw a line in the sand and declare an end to their life’s race.
Jasper passes by the cell without slowing his stride. Sinn'ous drops the breath he held within and scrunches his nose at the lack of environmental awareness his prey possesses.
That had been inexcusably close. His prey may be stupidly naive, but Sinn'ous knows better. He should not have been caught off his game like that. It’s disgraceful.