Chapter Fifteen
S ame shit, different day.
The official slogan of prison.
I feel like so much of my time is spent shuffling from one drab room to another. Although I will say, ever since whatever mysterious falling out Velle had with the Warden, it seems like we’ve been able to move about more freely than before.
I don’t know if the lockdown has officially been lifted, but stuff is slowly trickling in again. The guards are more buoyant. Overall, it’s seeming as if things have returned to normal… I mean, as normal as they were before Dash showed up.
To me, though, it doesn’t mean dick. My cellmate is still gone, my friend still dead. And my other friends still don’t care. So I’m walking around salty.
I refuse to admit it, because admitting weakness isn’t in my nature, but for the first time in nearly three years, this place is getting to me just the tiniest bit.
For once, I’d like to go somewhere, anywhere that isn’t my cell, the caf, or the showers.
I’d like to eat some different food, listen to new music. I’d like to see some new faces.
At that thought, I glance up. I suppose there is one new face…
Trevel Fenwick. The new guy. 102…
He’s been here for a few days, and he’s somehow managing to cause a stir without so much as lifting a finger. Or even looking at anyone, for that matter.
Ren doesn’t trust him— I know, right? If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black.
Luthor seems indifferent about the whole thing, but Ren thinks the guy is suspicious.
Though he’s yet to elaborate on exactly why .
Even the brain trust— that’s Rook, Velle, and Joy —are wary of the mysterious new inmate, yet the dude’s barely made a sound.
Sure, he introduced himself to us when he first got here, and then I spoke to him again the other day for all of five seconds. It was hardly a profound conversation, but still. I just don’t see it… Why they all hate him so much. He doesn’t do anything.
Keeps to himself, sits alone in the cafeteria. Stares a lot, but that’s probably the least strange thing an inmate here could do. As far as I know, his cell is outside the first two rows of Gen-pop. It’s odd, but again, not exactly evidence of any wrongdoing.
Look at fucking Darcey, for example. Apparently, he lives in some fancy bedroom off the East Wing…
And he’s murdered two inmates since he’s been here!
But everyone is all gaga over him. It makes no sense and is more than contributing to my growing irritations with just about every asshole in this joint.
As lunch comes to an end, and we all get up to toss out our trash, I watch Trevel Fenwick.
Standing from the empty table near the front where he usually sits—by himself —he dumps his tray, then lines up.
Waiting for Rook to give us the okay, all the while with his face aimed at the floor and nowhere else.
I’m not saying I feel bad for the guy or anything, because that doesn’t sound like me. I just wish I understood what the others are seeing that I’m not.
Joy said Trevel came in abruptly . Not sure what that means, but she made it sound like the newest inmate since Dash might’ve been brought here for purposes other than simply being locked up forever.
I’ll be honest, I find it all more intriguing than suspicious.
I’m curious to know if any of the speculation is true; if Trevel Fenwick really is some sort of covert spy, planted among us by The Ivory.
Or if he’s just another poor sack of shit sentenced to life in hell and is being ostracized for it by his prisoner peers, simply because he’s a loner with nothing to say.
If the latter is the case, then I could surely empathize.
“Psst.” Someone nudges my arm, and I know right away who it is. “Want some?”
I peek at Joy, who’s holding out a bag of Skittles. I frown at them. “Regular?”
“Listen, we all know Tropical are superior,” she mumbles. “But can you really afford to be picky?”
She has a point. “Touché, asshole,” I mutter, snatching the bag from her.
She chuckles while I dump colorful candies into my hand and pop them into my mouth.
Yum. Artificial fruit.
I go to hand it back to her, but she waves me off. “You keep ’em. Happy Halloween.”
“Wait… is it?? Really?! ” My face contorts in devastation.
Joy shrugs. “How the hell should I know? It’s been the same year for ten years.”
“Another good point that’s depressing as fuck,” I grunt, and she huffs.
Winking at me, Joy stomps ahead to join Rook, the two of them smiling at each other, whispering and laughing while I sullenly munch my Skittles and try to be fucking grateful for the small, insignificant distraction.
Maybe thinking about this candy will give me something to dwell on for the rest of the day… You know, other than how bored angry sad lonely depressed horny exhausted hungry moody frustrated I am.
The thing is, I know I should just get over the whole Luthor and Ren sticking up for Darcey thing.
Yes, that bitch-boy killed my friend, and he’s still just skipping around here without a care in the world, boning his doctor, being Alabaster Pen’s resident lovable lunatic.
And yes , my so-called friends are falling right under the spell of his charms, while completely disregarding my feelings on the matter.
Still, I can’t deny that life would sure as shit run a lot smoother if I just moved the hell on.
There’s just one problem, though… I don’t want to.
Because loyalty is everything , and friendship goes both ways.
I’m sick of being the goddamn after-thought to these people.
When’s it gonna be my turn, huh??
“Taste the rainbow,” a deep voice rasps by my ear, scaring the shit out of me.
I jump so hard, I spill a few Skittles onto the floor.
“Jesus…” I breathe, slapping my hand over my heart while I gawk up at the culprit.
“Oof, sorry, mate.” Trevel chuckles, raking long fingers through his jet-black hair. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” But the tone of his voice and the curve to his lips directly contradict those words.
Kinda makes me think he liked it…
“Sheesh. Talk about sidling up out of nowhere,” I mumble, blinking at him.
He’s so tall … He must have at least five inches on me. I guess that, paired with those piercing violet eyes, could be overwhelming if I was focusing on it. Which I’m not.
“My apologies. I hope I haven’t caused you to lose them all,” he says casually. My brow cocks, and he glances at the floor. “Your candies…”
“Oh. Right.” I look down. “Just a couple. No biggie.”
He’s walking next to me now, sort of close, watching me speculatively.
I’m overwhelmed by the need to say something, so I ask, “You want some?”
An elated look sweeps over his face, only for a split second, before he ditches it and murmurs, “No, no, I couldn’t. I’ve already cost you a few…”
My lips twitch. “It’s okay. It was only yellows and greens. Those are the worst ones.”
“Are they now?” He grins, and I nod. “According to who?”
“Uh, everyone in the universe with taste buds,” I quip, and he chuckles. A strange heat rushes up my neck, and I clench my jaw to get away from it.
“I fancy a green on special occasions,” he says teasingly… I think . It’s hard to tell with the accent. Still, he appears to be fighting off a smirk.
“That’s only acceptable if they’ve made the switch to green apple,” I counter. “These are original, so it’s lime. Bleh.”
“What’s wrong with a lime?” His brow creases, as if he’s very invested in this stupid conversation.
“A real lime? Nothing.” My face slopes to find him already looking at me. In fact, he’s been doing it pretty much this whole time. Not sure how he even knows where he’s walking… “Fake lime is gross.”
“So you dislike lemon and lime candies?” His dark brows lift. “Yet you like orange… Isn’t that pretty much the same thing? Fake citrus and all…”
“Trevel, please. Don’t compare oranges to lemons and limes. They’re not even in the same ballpark.”
He chuckles again, softly, pursing his lips. I can’t tell what the expression means, but I have to admit, chatting with him about nonsense is more entertaining than scowling at nothing and obsessing over bullshit.
“Does she give you gifts often?” he asks, tone growing a bit deeper, more inquisitive.
“Who… Joy?” My eyes dart briefly to where she’s walking with Rook. Trevel nods. “I wouldn’t say often … But we get along.”
For some reason, I feel weird saying these words, given that Joy was one of my semi-regular hookup buddies before she went exclusive with Rook and Velle. Not that the new guy knows, or cares, about any of that…
“She’s the only female guard, yes?”
It occurs to me with his question that he’s still very much new here. And because no one likes him, he probably hasn’t had anyone to show him the ropes, or give him the Alabaster Pen rundown , so to speak.
“She’s the only female on the whole island,” I reply.
“Hm…” He makes a small sound, as if he has thoughts about this. “That must be fun for her.”
A tiny chuckle rumbles out of me. “To be honest, I can’t imagine Joy interacting with women. She’s like one of the guys…” I frown at the thought. “Only, you know… with lady parts.”
His gaze snaps to mine, and he assesses me for a moment. I still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and his eyes are sort of boring into me.
In an effort to pull focus from myself, I add, “Anyway, I hate to break it to you, but she’s off the market.”
His lips twitch, and he murmurs, “I’m not worried about it.” He seems genuine.
Entirely unaffected by the notion of having no females around.
Gazing over the sharp line of his jaw, the pointed slope of his nose, and the long, dark lashes that fan over his pale cheeks when he blinks, I wonder why people are considering him odd when, if anything, he looks like he could be a runway model.
Maybe that is why. Because someone so striking in appearance must’ve done something super crazy to wind up here…
Unfortunately, his purple eyes dart to mine while I’m mid-stare.