Chapter Nine
I ’ve often felt that Alabaster Pen mirrors my moods.
Rationally, I know that’s not possible. Things happen on a cosmic scale, and I’m not that important.
But if you believe in energy shifts, the moons and the tides and all that crap— which I’m not sure I do —then you can understand why I might feel inclined to believe that the constant rollercoaster of highs and lows that is my mental state is directly related to the events of Alabaster Penitentiary.
By my estimation, Kieran O’Malley was ripped out of gen-pop roughly two months ago.
It was a quiet afternoon in the Pen. We were playing poker, and I was schooling him, which was entertaining on many levels because he’s the sorest of sore losers, when out of nowhere, Officer Hancock came strolling into our cell and cuffed me.
My first thought was not again … Seriously, the dejà vu was kicking. Fast nerves and dread, and the tiniest flicker of thrill that made me want to throw up, rippled through me.
I did my time in solitary after what happened in the Warden’s office. That should’ve been my lesson learned, right there. No matter how good he manipulates you into feeling, there are repercussions when fraternizing with the devil.
At the same time, if Manuel Blanco wants something from you… he’s going to get it. Searching for a rhyme or reason will just stress you out.
So I went with Hancock, my stomach churning and my palms sweating… But we only made it a few feet up the row before he stopped, outside of Ren’s cell. I was relieved, until it dawned on me. The same sort of thing was happening…
I was about to be manipulated; used for someone’s selfish purposes. And I would go along with it, because my body is weak .
That’s exactly what happened, too. Ren had Hancock bring me to his cell so that he could beg me to do some proxy shit with him in the showers, in an effort to get Luthor’s attention. Ridiculous.
He’s forever dragging me into their relationship, wedging me in between them because Luthor won’t give him the time of day. He uses me as a bridge to get the one he actually wants. It’s been years and I still can’t tell if I should be insulted by it.
I guess I’m not… Since I keep coming when he calls, like a stupid fucking lapdog.
Why do I keep going back?
Am I that desperate to feel needed??
Regardless, it was while I was with Ren that O’Malley was snatched up. We only found out later that he was in the East, though it’s still unclear why .
He’s been to the East Wing before, strapped to things and experimented on, but never for this long. I’m not sure what they expect to gain from him, but then that’s not something any of us criminals are worthy of knowing.
It’s just the Warden. Whatever he says goes, no matter how pointlessly cruel it may seem. Unnecessary pain is his side-hustle.
Within the quiet, I can still hear O’Malley shouting as they hauled him away. Like a reflex, my eyes lift to the mattress above me…
“Focus. Head in the game, remember?”
Ren’s words replay in my mind, his tone meant to calm me down, while also reminding me of our agreement. The one we all made after Freeman was taken.
Always keep your head in the game, no matter what.
Don’t let this place break you.
Because it will, if you let it. We’ve all seen it happen, more times than we cared to. Luthor’s past cellmates— whether I gave a shit about them or not —were all overcome by the mayhem and madness of being locked up forever in Alabaster fucking Pen. And now so has O’Malley.
Parker Freeman, Ren’s last and only cellmate, wasn’t swallowed up by it like the rest were. But still, he lost himself, his soul… Fuck it, his life .
We know he’s dead. Denying it does nothing for anyone.
He’s gone , and when it happened, Luthor, Ren, and I made a pact. No matter what they do to us, no matter how hard they try, we’ll never lose ourselves within the walls of this goddamn crypt. Never lose sight of what’s important… Survival .
The Ivory can chain our bodies, but he’ll never possess our minds.
More memories try to slink in between my defenses, but I block them and focus on what’s happening now, in this moment. The bland, colorless shuffle out of my cell for some mundane routine.
Will it stay this way? Or will this be another bout of mayhem…?
I guess we’ll find out.
Joy and Rook are herding us into the row, and I peek behind me to find Luthor coming my way. By himself, meaning Dash is still in solitary.
I shiver at the thought.
Dash is Luthor’s new cellmate, and they’ve been attached at the hip since his arrival—coincidentally the same day O’Malley disappeared. See what I mean? It’s either nonstop action, or mind-numbing tedium.
Dash winds up in solitary often. The kid’s been in the hole more times in his two months here than most of us have in years .
One could rationalize that it’s because he kicked Velle in the balls within twenty-four hours of his arrival, and he’s been paying the price ever since.
But honestly, I’m not sure that’s the real reason.
It makes more sense that he’s an undercover troublemaker… With a tendency to attract unwanted attention.
I’m biting down on the inside of my cheek as Luthor sidles up to me.
“Hey,” he grumbles, sounding tired. Makes sense.
Ren’s been in solitary too, after he and Dash apparently got into some fight with Gage and his homeboys in the showers. I haven’t seen Dash since the night the power went out…
Storms have been ravaging the East Coast for weeks, causing frequent power outages.
Luthor even had to go down to the East Wing at one point and help them with the servers.
That was when he verified that O’Malley was alive, although knowing what goes on down there, I’d say simply being alive isn’t exactly a comfort.
Ren’s only been gone a couple of days, but Luthor is clearly worried. He tries to act like he doesn’t care, but his demeanor betrays him. You can see it all over his face, in his slumped shoulders and his movements heavy with melancholy.
Luthor is an empath. He can’t help it. He carries the burden of what’s happening to his friends as if it’s happening to him. And when your friends are Ren and Dash, keeping up with that concern is like a full-time job.
I can’t say I don’t understand. I’ve certainly felt off since my cellmate was taken. Fortunately, there’s no shortage of other crap for me to obsess over.
Grunting a response to Luthor’s greeting, I’m eyeing him in my peripheral. When we reach the end of the row and find Ren’s cell still empty, I feel him deflate a little more at my side.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us,” I breathe, then stiffen.
I’m sincerely hoping things aren’t going to be awkward after what happened the other night in the hallway…
Not that we did anything to each other. But things were definitely happening in our shared bubble.
Luthor shows me a small, comforting smile. “You know what that means…”
I cock a brow.
“Bro date.”
I can’t help the puff of laughter that leaves my lips. Of course I’m overthinking it. After all, Luthor and I have a different kind of friendship. We’re fam , above all else. Something as insignificant as a voyeuristic orgasm couldn’t shake our foundation.
Just a couple of bros jerking off watching their other bro swallow some cum. What’s the big deal?
In the caf, we get settled at our usual table with our usual trays of slop, digging in without words. It’s always quieter when Ren’s not around. I like to think I prefer it this way, but I can’t deny that something is missing…
After a few minutes of mindless chitchat, I sigh. “You know, we can talk about Ren if you want. I don’t mind.”
Luthor flashes me a look of vulnerability in between poking at his mac and cheese. “That’s not bro date conversation. That’s—”
“Girl talk?” I shrug, smirking.
He laughs, then shakes his head. “I don’t know, man… He’s confusing.”
“Uh-huh,” I hum in agreement.
“I mean, he let Gage fuck him in half while we were supposed to be…” his voice trails, and I witness him swallow.
“I remember,” I say softly, mind littered with memories of that time, three years ago…
The day after I arrived in Hell, my new friend had his heart ripped out and stomped on. And I focused all of my energy on trying to help him through it.
I’ve gotta say, it was a great distraction.
“But then he gets sent to solitary for kicking the dude’s ass?
? Twice , mind you.” He shakes his head.
“He’s just… too fucking much. But I feel like I’m stuck with him, and the craziest part is that I’m not even mad about it.
I love being stuck with him, even though I hate it and he drives me absolutely insane.
” His green eyes lift to mine. “Hating that you love someone… How messed up is that?”
I blink at him, swallowing down the stuff I wish I could say.
It’s not as messed up as you think…
“Listen, you’ve obviously known Ren longer than I have,” I mumble.
“Yea, but you know him too,” he cuts in. “Just as well as I do… Maybe more. Because you can see beyond the Ren-daze.”
Those words stop me for a second, and I stare at him blankly. Can I, though?
I guess he’s right… I do know Ren. Really fucking well.
But why…? Why do I know him as well as his own fated fucking mate??
I barely even remember what I was going to say, so I croak, “So then… You know as well as I do that Percy fucking Gage doesn’t mean shit to him. Just like Velle doesn’t, or Jasper, or Rook… or me.”
The way Luthor is looking at me right now has me immediately regretting those words, sinking deep into a hole of Jesus Christ, why the fuck did I just say that??
I’m about to start backpedaling, when the center of the goddamn universe himself comes traipsing into the cafeteria.
Jasper is standing by the doorway, having brought him up, but Ren isn’t cuffed and he’s just beelining over to us like he’s on a mission.
I find myself gulping and sitting up straight for some reason.
“Hey,” Ren breathes out as he plops into the seat next to Luthor.