Chapter Eleven
S parring by myself isn’t an ideal situation.
But sometimes it’s all I have.
Things have been fucked up lately, and the isolation of being in this cell alone for most of every day is weighing on me. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to understand why Luthor is always moping when he loses a cellmate.
Speaking of…
I launch my foot at the pillow I have tied to the bars. My makeshift punching bag.
Dash is gone.
Punch.
O’Malley is dead.
Hit hit hit.
And I’m trying not to obsess over any of it, because all I have are questions and no goddamn answers. It’s clouding up my head with so much noise, I’ve barely slept in days and have been living in a constant state of migraine.
Strike, strike… strike.
Kick, punch.
Fight it all. Fight off the emotions.
Punch and kick them bloody.
Sharp pain sears through my hand, and I realize the pillow fell. I’ve been hitting metal.
Great.
Guards enter the row. And not that I care about their feelings, but Jasper and Hancock both look equally stressed and exhausted as they gather us all for breakfast. I’m sure the loss of two inmates in twenty-four hours hasn’t been easy on any of them…
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Velle in days.
The entire island is on lockdown thanks to this drama, but no one really knows why .
All we know for sure is that Dash and O’Malley are both gone, in different ways.
We have no idea how or why it happened, who’s responsible, and what the fuck this means for the rest of us, prisoners and guards alike.
Luthor comes to walk next to me, but neither of us says a word, sharing only a brief, solemn look of mutual unease. When we get to the end of the row, Ren’s cell is empty, and a wave of nauseated fear hits me so fast, my legs almost give out. I can feel Luthor having the same reaction.
“Where…” he chokes quietly. “Where is he??”
My mouth just hangs open, and I feel myself reaching for Luthor’s hand because I just need something to hold on to right now. I need some form of contact to calm me down before I break in half.
No… No no no, we can’t lose him too.
Not him…
Just as my mind is slipping into an even darker place than I’m used to, one of the doors at the opposite end of the corridor swings open, and Ren comes traipsing through. Like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t just scare the ever-loving shit out of us!
He really needs to stop doing that.
Ren grins and waves while Luthor and I are releasing exhales of mutual relief.
His eyes widen at the guards. He turns, and I catch him whispering something into whatever room he just came out of before closing the door tight behind him.
Then he scampers over to join the herd, sliding right into place beside Luthor and myself. Where he belongs.
Jasper gives him a surly look, but Ren just winks at him.
“Where were you?” I ask, attempting to rein in my emotions.
“You scared the shit out of us,” Luthor adds.
“Confidential meeting,” Ren murmurs, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’ve got details.”
Fuck. My stomach creeps back up into my esophagus.
“Spill,” I demand. But he holds up his hand.
He doesn’t have to speak. I know he’s telling me to wait until we get some privacy.
Easier said than done, bro.
In the caf, we grab our trays fast, rushing to our usual table. And once we’re settled and away from the prying ears of everyone else, Ren sighs.
“Okay, so… here’s what I know.” He’s watching Luthor closely before his eyes jump to mine. “Felix Darcey killed O’Malley, then set Dash free.”
The ignite of rage starts slow, like early crawling flames, while I process those words. But it spreads quickly, absorbing brush and oxygen. Weaving from my gut, into my veins and muscles, until I’m engulfed in an inferno of wrath.
Crackling red splashes in my vision, and my fists clench tight.
That preppy little shit?
He’s the one who killed my friend??
Luthor’s hand drops onto my shoulder, and I flinch. “You okay?”
“Are you sure?” I hiss quietly at Ren, teeth gritted so tightly I can barely articulate. “How do you know? ”
“I can’t tell you,” he states evenly. “I have a source, though, and they confirmed it. Darcey got out of his cell in the East and into O’Malley’s with a weapon, stabbed the fuck out of him, carved him up, then somehow meandered his way into Dash’s cell and let him out.”
I’m fucking stunned speechless. Blinding anger of the highest degree is overwhelming the confusion of what I’m hearing.
I knew O’Malley was dead… From the moment we heard the rumor, I just knew it was true. And despite Ren’s theories, I refused to believe that some self-righteous, narcissistic, wannabe Bundy fucking fanboy was the one to take my friend’s life— my friend, the absolute manic terror.
The fucking Carver did it. He chose to murder one of my friends and let the other go. Before I had the chance to say goodbye… to either of them.
“How the fuck did that even happen?” Luthor asks Ren while I’m gripping the edge of the table so hard I might snap a chunk off. “Like just… how?? ”
Ren’s quiet for a second. “I’m… not sure.”
He’s lying.
“So what the fuck are you telling us?? Huh?!” I bark.
Ren’s eyes widen. “Shh! Simmer down, bitch.”
“No. Fuck that!” I roar, jumping to my feet.
“You’re saying that dweeby psycho twink somehow murdered our friend, then set our other friend free?
? And it’s just like, ‘Ah well… Shit happens! Prison’s no match for The Carver!
’ ” I rake my fingers through my hair. “O’Malley didn’t deserve to die that way! ”
I’m splitting. I can feel the stress cracks slithering all throughout my insides. Picking up my tray of food, I whip it at the wall.
These emotions are too intense. The grief, the hopelessness, the regret. I can’t process it all.
No . I don’t want to. Anger is much easier for me to manage. Anger is straightforward, but the rest of this shit is just too… fucking messy .
“Kang, it’s okay,” Luthor stands, trying to talk me down, his eyes shifting nervously. “Just breathe… Head in the—”
But it’s too late. I’m overflowing, and it’s gotta go somewhere.
I smack his hand away when he tries to touch me, cutting off his attempts at reassurance. “You know Dash is probably dead too, right?? Fucking fish food, bro! They’re both gone, you get that?? We’re never gonna see them again!”
“ Hey! ” Joy comes out of nowhere, grabbing me by the shoulders. “You need to calm your ass down.”
“Fuck off.” I gasp for air, struggling to breathe all of a sudden.
My heart is beating too fast.
I don’t need this.
I don’t… belong… here.
I think I’m having a panic attack.
Joy quickly drags me away, pulling me out into the hallway while I’m physically fuming, chest huffing and puffing.
As soon as we’re out of view of everyone else, she lets me go.
Lets me pace back and forth like a caged animal, because she knows I need to.
She just stands back and watches me, arms folded over her chest.
It’s not working to calm me down, though, and I’m sure she knows that too. Eventually, I have to stop, or I’ll collapse.
Fuck this.
Fuck every single bit of this fucking place.
With my back up against the wall, I slide down onto the floor until I’m slumped, holding my head in my hands. Just trying to breathe. To focus on just that; the inhales, and the exhales.
Joy plops down next to me, leaning in close. She runs her nails up the nape of my neck, and it’s oddly comforting. The touch right now feels good. So good that my stiff muscles eventually ease and my breathing evens out.
“I know he wasn’t a… good person.” I tremble out the words. Now that the rage is fading off, the other emotions are building up higher in its place. “But he was still my friend. I understood how he felt sometimes… We were both—” I swallow down my words on a painful gulp.
We were both lost.
“I’m sorry, yeobo ,” she hums.
Sniffing, I peek at her. “Do you think Dash made it?”
There’s a rare flash of worry in her eyes as she rests her head against mine. And she mutters, barely audibly, “I fucking hope so.”
We sit in silence for a while, until Joy finally stands with a sigh, pulling me up by my hand. “You wanna go back? I’ll bring you food.”
“What about the lockdown…?” I ask, defeated by the metric ton of uncertainty weighing on my shoulders.
“Let him come for me over some goddamn cup-o-noodles.” She cracks the smallest smirk, and I mirror it back.
I still have friends here. They’re not all gone.
Not yet, anyway…
“Thanks, aein .”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I chuckle.
We walk back to my cell in silence. When we get there, Joy says, “You’re more, Byron.”
Stepping inside, I turn to meet her gaze between the metal bars. “More than what?”
“You’re just… more .” She taps her knuckles on the steel. Then she wanders off.
A few minutes later, she returns to drop off some food for me. And I eat it alone, in the quiet, with just my thoughts. Ruminating and contemplating… How much more I could be if I weren’t so convinced I’m less.
The day after I found out the truth about O’Malley’s murder, I ran into Felix fucking Darcey in the showers.
I’m not sure who thought it’d be a good idea to bring him up to general population, but clearly, they were misguided.
It took everything in me not to bash his sweet little bespectacled head into the concrete enough times to crack it right open. Fortunately for him, my own best friends stopped me.
Luthor and Ren are… acting weird. I’m not sure what’s up with them, but if I were to place a wager, I’d say Luthor is mourning the loss of yet another cellmate—his other best friend, Dash—by being an idiot. And Ren, as usual, is taking advantage of that.