Extra #2
Bear’s POV
Age 20
The loud, metallic groan of the cell gate screeching open violently yanks me out of my sleep.
“You’ve got a new roomie, Roberts,” Officer Trent grunts, his heavy voice echoing off the concrete walls. I sit up slowly on the top mattress, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights as Trent aggressively shoved a kid into the small space.
The boy was incredibly scrawny. He had messy blonde hair sweeping directly over his eyes, and he refused to make even a fraction of eye contact with me, keeping his gaze glued entirely to his white sneakers.
Trent slams the heavy gate shut behind him, the lock clicking with a definitive thud. I watch in silence from above as the kid nervously began setting up his meager belongings on the bottom bunk.
He clears his throat, his shoulders tense. “What’s your name?” he asks quietly, still not looking up.
“Bear,” I grunt, my voice deep and gravelly from sleep.
He pauses, finally glancing up. “That’s... your actual name?”
“No,” I answer flatly.
“I’m Joey,” he volunteers, his voice trembling slightly as he looks around the cramped concrete cell. He swallows hard before whispering, “Y-you aren’t a murderer, are you?”
The second the question left his mouth, I swing my legs over the edge and jump off the top bunk, my boots hitting the floor with a loud, heavy bang. Joey let out a sharp squeal, flinching back until his spine hit the metal frame of the bed.
“Don’t ever ask what people are in here for,” I state coldly, looming over him until he nods frantically. “You ask the wrong person that, and you’ll get stabbed before lockup. Understood?”
He nods rapidly, his face turning entirely pale. “Okay. Okay.”
I let out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall. “I stole cars. So you don’t have to worry about me lurking over your bed at night.”
“Thanks,” he whispers, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.
Staring at him, a sudden wave of homesickness hit me right in the chest. He reminded me an incredible amount of my twin brother, Jay. The exact same anxious, high-strung energy. It had been two full weeks since I’d seen any of my family. The prison was a brutal, multi-hour drive from home, so they could only manage to make the trip out once a month.
Last month had been the best day of my sentence so far. I actually got to meet my new niece, Natasha. She was absolutely beautiful, and holding her had been the first time I felt human in months.
“You’re... staring at me,” Joey’s quiet voice broke through my thoughts.
“You look like my brother,” I state simply, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh,” Joey murmurs, looking down at his hands.
A loud buzz echoes down the block, and our cell gate slid open. I immediately walk out into the tier, Joey hovering right at my heels like a shadow. It was officially shower time.
Because I absolutely hated dealing with the massive crowds, I always made it a point to get at the very back of the line so most of the inmates would be finished and gone. As we approach the bathhouse, Joey tries to instinctively sprint ahead into an open stall, but I reach out and firmly grip his wrist, pulling him back.
“No,” I say, my tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.
He frowns, looking confused, but he didn’t fight me. He steps back into place.
It takes about six minutes of waiting in the corridor for the crowd to thin out enough for us to finally grab two open shower heads. The second the water turns on, Joey gasps, flinching violently away from the spray. He looks completely horrified by the freezing temperature. I couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle.
You’re definitely not in the Hamptons anymore, buddy.
Joey and I were the last two people left in the bathhouse, shutting off our water and grabbing our towels, when a loud, aggressive commotion suddenly erupts in the hallway just outside.
We walk out, towels slung over our shoulders, and my jaw instantly clenches at the sight. Officer Trent was aggressively pinning Officer Amy against the concrete wall. Amy wasn’t too bad of a guard. In fact, I’d always respected her; my mother had raised me right, teaching me to always use my manners and show respect to ladies, no matter where I was. The other guards on the block always got incredibly annoyed with her, mostly because I completely ignored their orders but would actually listen to her when she spoke.
“Get your fucking hands off me, Trent!” she snaps, pressing her palms against his chest to push his heavy frame away.
“Oh, come on, stop playing hard to get, Amy,” Trent chuckles darkly, crowding her space even more. “I see the way you look at me around the breakroom.”
“I look at you in pure disgust,” she spat directly into his face.
Trent’s expression instantly turns ugly. “Stop being a total bitch,” he growls.
He reaches down, his heavy hand aggressively gripping the waist of her tactical pants, trying to force them down.
A white-hot surge of pure, unadulterated rage exploded in my chest. I didn’t think. I just moved. I step up rapidly behind him, bringing my hand down in a heavy tap on his shoulder. The exact second Trent turns his head around to see who it was, I threw everything I had into a vicious right hook, catching him solidly right in the jaw.
Crack.
“Bear!” Joey hisses in a panicked, terrified whisper from behind me.
Trent stumbles backward against the wall, letting out a low chuckle as he wipes a smear of dark blood from his lower lip. He glares at me, his eyes wild. “You just made a massive mistake, inmate.”
“She’s not some slut you can corner in a hallway,” I snap, my voice vibrating with rage as I step into a fighting stance. “Treat her like an equal.”
“You want a piece of this?” Trent questions mockingly, glancing back at Amy with a sickening grin. “I mean, she normally only sucks off the upper officers, but I can see if she’s down to blow a piece of prison trash like you.”
The second the words left his mouth, I completely lost control.
My raw temper tore straight to the surface. One punch instantly became two. Two became three. Before he could even lift his hands to defend himself, I tackled him to the floor, mounting his chest and relentlessly beating his face to an absolute pulp. Blood splattered across my knuckles as I struck him again and again, completely blind with rage.
A loud chorus of shouts and heavy boots sprinted down the hallway. Three large officers threw themselves onto my back, aggressively pulling me off Trent’s bloodied, semi-conscious body.
“To the hole, Roberts,” Officer Garry growls, forcefully twisting my arms behind my back and snapping the cuffs on tight.
----
They threw me into solitary confinement for two full weeks. The absolute worst part about being put in the hole is the psychological torture of the unknown; they never tell you exactly how long your stay is going to last. Without windows or watches, time completely loses its meaning, stretching out into a slow, agonizing crawl.
This was only my second time down here. My first stay had been on my very first day in the facility, after my initial cellmate tried to corner me and make me his bitch. I showed him exactly what happened to people who touched me, beating him so badly he had to be transferred to another block.
Because the state doesn’t supply my specific prescription psychiatric medications for my depression and ADHD while you’re in solitary, my brain was completely unedited, leaving my raw impulses right on the surface. That’s the real reason no one on the tier ever messed with me. Word got around fast that I was completely unhinged without my pills. Apparently, the guy I broke on my first day was supposed to be the scariest enforcer in the prison. Ah well.
The heavy steel door to the hole suddenly screeches open, and Officer Amy steps into the dim light.
“Standard check-up, Roberts,” she says, her voice surprisingly soft. “Up you get.”
I slowly push myself up from the concrete floor, holding my arms straight out to the sides for the mandatory search. Amy walks over, standing directly in front of me, but she didn’t lift her hands to pat me down. Instead, she just looks up into my eyes.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
I blink, completely caught off guard. “What?”
“For sticking up for me out there,” she clarifies, a genuine look of gratitude crossing her face.
“I was raised to treat women with respect,” I mutter, shifting my weight uncomfortably and looking away. “It’s just how it is.”
She hums softly, taking a step back toward the door. “I personally made sure the administration didn’t add any extra years to your sentence for the fight,” she states flatly. “But it’s still going to show up on your internal record that you assaulted a correctional officer.”
I quirk an eyebrow, genuinely shocked. “You actually did that for me?”
“We’re officially even now, inmate,” she smiles faintly. “How much time do you have left on your stretch?”
“Uh, four years,” I answer. “But I’m eligible to appeal for parole in two for good behavior.”
“I’ll personally put in a good word with the board,” she says confidently. “I’ll make sure you get out in two.”
I frown, staring at her. “Why?”
She let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning her shoulder against the steel doorframe. “I’ve worked in this hellhole for four years, Roberts. Every single day, Trent and the rest of those male officers looked down on me and treated me like garbage just because I’m a woman. You were the first person in this entire building to actually stand up for me.” She let out a small, sharp laugh. “It also massively helped our internal affairs case that Trent is a fucking dumbass and completely forgot to turn off the corridor cameras before he cornered me.”
“Ah,” I murmur, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “Well... thanks. You didn’t really have to do all that for me.”
“Are you kidding me?” she scoffs gently. “The other officers are so utterly terrified of you right now that they are actively staying away from me just by association. And Trent was officially fired this morning.”
I stretch my arms out, feeling the ache in my shoulders. “So... does that mean I can finally come out of the hole now?”
She chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Yeah, no. I definitely don’t have that much pull around here.”
“So, you’ve actually got a bit of influence around this place?” I question, raising an eyebrow.
“My partner is the warden,” she answers with a wicked, knowing grin. She taps the steel door with her knuckles, turning to leave. “So, what Trent said out there was somewhat true... but I only ever get on my knees for one man.”
A genuine smile broke across my face as I watch her walk out, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind her.