Chapter 5
Five
“Lacey?” I murmured my sister’s name, soft, scared of what she might say.
She’d called me, in the middle of the night, sobbing, asked me to pick her up from her friend’s house. I didn’t hesitate, showing up only ten minutes later. But she wasn’t where she said she would be.
It took me fifteen minutes of storming around the strange house to find her tucked up in the pool house bathroom. It was dirty, dark and cold, used for storage. Cluttered and messy. And that’s where I found my gorgeous sister, shattered, broken.
“Lacey?” I said her name again, sinking to my knees in front of her. She gasped and sobbed, clawing at her arms to pull herself deeper into her cocoon. “Hey.”
She was shaking. Afraid. And not responding. I leaned back and took more of her in. Shredded clothes, a smear of blood on her arm, her hair looked matted, tugged at.
A shift.
Something shifted in my belly when I realized what had happened. What was so evident before me.
Not Lacey. “Hey.” This time, I grabbed her arms and pulled them apart, forcing her to look at me.
She sniffled, her red-rimmed eyes meeting mine.
Like an earthquake behind my ribcage, things would never be the same again.
I missed my sister most of all. After all, the reason this had all begun was because of her. My first official victim, her rapist. I murdered him in what they said was cold blood, but really, it was full of heat, burning anger and rage so hot it spilled out over everything.
But seeing Lacey was hard. She was always trying to help, to change me, and I knew it upset her watching me in this place, decked out in prison gear, led in chains to the table, guarded by eagle-eyed officers.
So I told her to stop coming. And told myself that one day I would get to see her again on equal terms.
In the fresh air and bright sky.
When things were at their hardest, when I didn’t want the darkness to overwhelm me, I thought of that day.
When we could sit in the sun and smile. I thought about grass and trees and fucking butterflies.
Shit, I wanted to run my hands over rough bark or through long blades of grass.
Butterflies sometimes fluttered their pretty way through the yard, but it was insidious, wrong to have something so pure here.
It was a full week in isolation for me for my latest indiscretion, and a meeting to discuss more prison time. I was not a model prisoner. Hurting COs, other inmates, causing constant mayhem and chaos.
I had to meet with the warden, and he was almost as bad as Saggy Sal. We were old pals at this point, and I never paid much attention. There would be no trees and butterflies for me.
Both the warden and Sal were on the other side of the desk, the warden sitting, his expression fed up, Sal, unfortunately for him, standing. Huffing every few breaths.
“Penelope Karner,” the warden said, tutting and tapping his fingers on my folder.
Randal stood behind me, my chariot from solitary to this dreary room devoid of anything personal.
This place was almost worse; at least solitary was supposed to suck.
The warden’s office, which I’d been in many times, was all dull gray and army green, a shelf of books with boring ass names and some faded furniture.
“Warden,” I replied, “Sal.” I nodded to Sal. I’d never even learned his last name to address him properly. They should all just be pleased I forwent the ‘Saggy’.
The warden pursed his lips. “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
“It’s kind of hard not to,” I said. “You don’t need to play this game, Warden.”
“Not a game,” he spat back. “And once again, Miss Karner, you don’t get to talk to me like that.”
I sighed. “Just do what you’re going to do, please. More time, more punishment. I’m never getting out of here, so what does a few more years added to my sentence matter?”
It didn’t matter what they did to me anymore. I was in here for life. My sentence would run out when I was 150 rather than 147 if they threw a few more years on. They were all fucking idiots, moving around and shuffling their papers like they were important.
“I can put you in solitary indefinitely,” he said, hoping for a reaction. I thought about it for a second, because I didn’t really care. Let the silence take my crazy to the surface. But, no. Not yet.
So I played it up. “Please don’t do that,” I asked, making my voice breathier, my eyes wider. “Please.”
It worked, and as the meeting finished, I was on probation. Any incident, however small, would lead to an extended solitary stay.
It was just unfortunate that Randal grabbed my ass as I walked into the hall, and an even bigger shame that I turned around and kicked him in the nuts.
So back I went to my void of a solitary cell, staring at the wall, imagining all the women who had come before me. How many deserved to be here? Locked away in a place where we were already locked away?
I did. But many did not.
Using my nail, I scratched at the wall behind my head, not looking as I pretended to chip at the surface, working on a tunnel to freedom. It didn’t matter that this wall connected with the cell next door, or that it was made of fucking brick. Anything to pass the time.
I shut my eyes, letting it wash over me.
A room, flashing with strobe lights, or what looked like them, might just have been a flickering streetlight.
And he was positioned above her. She was unconscious, but not the gentle kind that came from falling asleep in a warm bed.
The bump on her head told me it came from a hard slam to her skull.
And he was on top of her, on top of my sister.
Rage rushed me, sending me over the edge I’d been drifting closer to again.
It blinkered, and he was underneath me, dying. Dying hard. Badly. Painfully. Mm… It was just a dream, a warped memory I hadn’t experienced, but, shit, the blood and gore that came after it sickened me, festered in me.
My fingers slipped into my underwear, finding my slick pussy and rubbing as I remembered my first official victim, the way he’d looked at me with such horror and surprise when I slid my knife into his stomach. It slid in like butter — so smooth, no resistance at all, like it belonged there.
He’d been so shocked, but I hadn’t. I’d spent hours sharpening the cheap kitchen knife until it nicked my skin with ease.
My sister’s rapist died with me on top of him. He was the victim begging for it all to stop, not her, not me. My belly squeezed in pleasure at the memory of him on that life’s edge. That precipice. I found my clit and circled, seeking quick gratification.
The footsteps sounding down the hall this time made me grin; it was like he could sense it.
I knew it was him; I just knew. I rubbed my clit harder when he didn’t stop at any of the other cells, when my little hatch opened and those familiar eyes met mine with a flash of want he would refuse to admit was there.
“Is your arm okay?” I asked, breathy, not slowing my movements, spreading my legs wider to show him what I was doing beneath the rough fabric of my pants.
I tugged my shirt up over my tits and tucked my bra underneath them, showing them to him for the first time.
It was cold, so my nipples tightened and pointed, little goosebumps washing over my flesh.
His gaze flickered down, then back to my face. Wordless.
“You could get your cock out,” I said with a huff, my veins heating. “Make yourself feel good, Darling.”
He still said nothing, didn’t even move, but he kept watching. His eyes didn’t stray from my body, from my movements.
Feeling brave, I stopped what I was doing and rose onto my knees, stripping my top and bra away in a clumsy movement. He needed to be pushed.
“You like what you see?” I asked. I was supposed to be seducing the man, drawing him into my web or whatever at a pace he wouldn’t even notice, but I couldn’t resist pressing his buttons.
His eyes drew me in, reminded me of something, of that moment of death when life blinkered out. The last desperate gasp of sentience.
I had his blood in my digestive system now; we were bonded.
“Fuck, Darling. I’d love for you to come in here and suck my tits.
” I squeezed one of them, playing with my nipples, tugging at them, letting my mouth fall open, licking my bottom lip, eyes locked with his.
For a second there, nerves swam through me.
Maybe I was pushing; maybe I should be more submissive and slip into quiet and needy.
That might be what he wanted. “Please say something.”
“Take it all off,” he grunted. So fucking quiet. I didn’t know who else was down here with us, but if he was being this hushed, we must not be alone.
I grinned and stood, slipping my pants off — no way to make that look cute when they were baggy and bright orange, but I tried my best to be sexy for him.
“Why did you do that?” he asked then, surprising me. Making me naked and vulnerable and asking the rough questions, huh. Diabolical.
“Do what?” I straightened up, not shying away from showing off my body. If he didn’t like what he saw, he could go to hell. It was none of my business.
His eyes flickered over me, drifting along every curve and hair and bump. “Keep touching yourself,” he demanded, sinking into this deliciousness with me. He couldn’t resist. Yes.
I rubbed my palms over my tits, over my chest and down my stomach, smiling and moaning as I made myself feel good at his command.
“Why did you attack that inmate?” he asked then, tutting at me when I went to pull my hands away from my body again.
I took the hint and slipped one hand between my legs. “She pissed me off,” I said simply.
“She pissed you off,” he repeated, like he was testing the words.
I nodded. “She’s been coming after me for years. I just got bored.”
“And when you get bored…”
“…I get reckless.”
“Mm,” he muttered in agreement, studying me like he was locking the information away for later. “Come closer.”
I took a few measured steps toward him, wobbling a little as I got closer to coming undone. He commanded my body well.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” he whispered when I was right at the hatch. His arm was moving, and god, I wished I could see what he was doing, pressed up against my door like that. Was he fucking his fist? Looking at my naked body and making himself feel good?
“Shit,” I huffed, leaning my head against the lip of the hatch as shivers rang out all over my body.
Standing up, it wasn’t so easy to fuck myself, but I played with my clit, rubbing neat, wet circles with my fingers.
It was cold in here, so my skin pebbled, but it didn’t matter; his skin was right there.
His warm breath fanned against my cheek.
“Come for me, inmate.”
I groaned, holding in as much sound as I could, and came with a wave of bliss and the thumping of my forehead on the solid door. “Oh, god,” I murmured, refusing to shut my eyes as it all washed over me.
CO Darling grunted, barely susceptible, just a slight flare of his nostrils and his tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. Ah, the satisfaction through me was immense, better than the orgasm still ebbing way, knowing I’d helped him fall with me.
My breathing was heavy, his too, but he was so much more reserved than me. We allowed ourselves a moment of calm before it had to break.
“Open your mouth,” Darling said, breaking the reverie. His voice was still so low, just a little above a whisper, and I loved it. All rumbled and husky.
I let my lips part, curious and docile now that he’d helped me come, now that he’d caved into it. My pussy throbbed again when his fingers slipped through the bars and into my mouth, running them along my tongue.
He fed me his warm, salty cum, rubbing it from his fingers and onto my tongue, shoving as close to my throat as the bars would allow.
I groaned, swirled my tongue and relished the flavor of him. Proof of what he’d done, what he’d experienced.
“What’s your first name?” I asked when he pulled away, cum-drunk and sleepy. I closed my eyes, letting them linger shut for just a second.
But when I opened them, he was gone.
If I couldn’t still taste his cum on my tongue, I might have thought I’d hallucinated the whole thing. I blinked, waited for some sign he was just out of sight.
Maybe I’d fallen asleep standing up, because I couldn’t even hear his footsteps leaving. Nothing echoed down the hall.
I stepped away from the door, watching the hall through the hatch that was hard to see through, almost all in shadow at this time of night.
If I squinted, I could almost pretend he was still there, just out of view. Watching.