4. Leo
CHAPTER 4
Leo
It’s been three weeks since I’ve been in prison, and I still haven’t spoken to a judge or called home. The latter is probably my fault because I was asked if I wanted to make a call, and I declined. I still have no idea what I will tell my family and Myles. I need more time to think about the right words to say.
I haven’t seen a judge yet because they are apparently busy with more important issues. What a load of shit. They aren’t in a rush to see me and could care less that I am waiting behind bars. So here I am, sitting in prison, not having a clue how long my sentence will be.
I shared the back of the transport van with another inmate who was also leaving the hospital. We were both handcuffed to our seats. Where we were sitting was silent, cut off from the noise up front by a metal sliding door, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.
His stare was hot, and it felt like he was trying to burn my skin off. I kept my eyes down the whole ride, not sparing him a glance.
There was no way I could handle a conversation with this man anyway. Not with the pure terror that I was feeling about being transported to prison. Never in my life did I think I would be in this situation, and yet, here I am. My stomach was rolling with nausea, and I believed that at any moment, I would throw up.
When I first arrived at the facility after I was healed, I was stripped down and had a cavity search done. And here I thought being walked out of the hospital in front of others was humiliating. Once they cleared me, they handed me a navy blue jumpsuit.
Thank God it wasn’t the bright orange ones you see in movies.
Or the black and white stripes, but I think those might be dramatized for the screen.
All the other inmates couldn’t take their eyes off me when I was ushered through the halls and shown to my cell—a cell that I had to share with a very old man.
As I entered the tiny space, I took in the bunks, metal toilet, and sink. The old guy was sitting on the bottom bunk, meaning I had the honor of sleeping on the top.
I swallowed hard and fought the tears that were pricking my eyes. I couldn’t show weakness. Not in prison, of all places. I did this to myself, and now I have to deal with the consequences.
I’ve learned that my cellmate’s name is Walter, and he is serving life. I didn’t find this out from the source himself because the man doesn’t talk. No one has ever heard him speak. I’m unsure if he physically can’t talk or if it’s a choice.
When I first met him, we had a stare-down. He had this mean mug on his face, trying to intimidate me. The intimidation was working on the inside. I felt scared and vulnerable under his heated gaze, but I remained calm and unwavering from what he could see. It lasted a minute until his face softened, and he gave me a slight nod of approval.
I found the information on Walter from another inmate, Reed. He sleeps in the cell next to mine and has been friendly to me ever since I arrived, which is surprising considering he got locked up on charges of manslaughter.
There are rumors about why Walter was sent here, but no one knows if they are true or not. All the inmates leave the old man alone, whether it is because he is so quiet or people just fear him because of said rumors.
Some inmates say that Walter was some hitman who finally got caught when a job went wrong. Others say he was some big drug lord and was set up to be caught. There is no way to know if any of this is true. All I know is that having him as my cellmate might be handy.
Walter sits with me at mealtimes, and although I didn’t invite him, Reed took it upon himself to join us. Reed is a talker. He doesn’t know when to shut up. I remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I want to punch him in the mouth to make him stop talking. Walter doesn’t seem to mind; I think it’s because he ignores Reed.
In my short time here, I’ve chosen to be more like Walter. Keep to myself; that is, whenever Reed isn’t talking my ear off. I don’t speak to any other inmates, even though some have come up to me to ask what I was in for.
What the hell am I even supposed to tell them? I fell in love with my sociopath patient and was dumb enough to believe that we could run away and have a life together.
Yeah, right.
I make up some petty shit—the type of crime that won’t get your ass beat or have the guys pick on you. When I lie to them, they believe me but roll their eyes because they thought maybe I did something that would earn me rank in their crew.
I’ll pass on that. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to serve my punishment and devise a revenge plan for Veronica.
God, just thinking about her makes my blood boil. I still can’t believe she did what she did. All the memories that we had together in my office or in my room, all the words she said to me… they were all lies. Every single moment spent with her was part of her scheme to get out of the asylum.
And I was stupid enough to fall for it.
I was stupid enough to fall for her.
“Uh, Leo… you good?” Reed’s voice filters through my ears.
When I snap out of my daze and glance at him, he is wearing a concerned expression. His brown eyes drop from mine to my hand.
I look down to I see that my fist is clenched tightly around the plastic fork. My knuckles are white.
Loosening my grip, I set the utensil down and say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure? You were, like, one second away from breaking that, and I would have been impressed.”
Of course, he would have been. The utensils here are made from an unbreakable plastic that are specifically designed for facilities like this.
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, not meaning to, but the anger for Veronica is still simmering at the surface.
“If you say so.” Reed sighs and picks up a soggy French fry. “What’s got you in a tizzy?”
My head tilts to the side, relieving the tension with the sound of a crack. “Just stuff from the past.”
“Could it have to do with the reason you are in here?” Reed shoves the soggy fry in his mouth and smiles. I quirk an eyebrow in confusion. “I don’t believe all the bullshit lies you tell the other inmates. Do you, Walt?”
I glance over at the old man who was about to put a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth. His hand freezes in the air, and those blue eyes slide from Reed to me. Walter doesn’t say anything, like usual. He resumes his movement and takes a bite of his Greek yogurt.
“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve done. I mean, I killed a guy.” That smirk continues to play on his lips as he says, “Or a few.” But then that smirk drops. “Did you kill more people than me?”
“How would I even know how many people you killed?” I poke at the stale bread sitting on my plate. Reed opens his mouth, but I stop him and say, “I don’t want to know.”
“All right, well, if you aren’t a killer, then what did a pretty boy like you do to get sent here? It was something lame, wasn’t it? That’s why you lie to all the other guys so that they won’t pick on you?”
I might reconsider punching him in the mouth if he asks me again. “If I tell you, will you please shut up?”
“Since you asked so nicely, yes.” His smile widens. “I’ll even keep the truth to myself.”
My eyes narrow on him, attempting to read his expression to see if he is telling the truth. Reed holds his smile; his eyes are shining with eagerness at the truth I’m about to tell him because that is what I’ll do—a simple answer with no explanation.
“Fine,” I huff as I set the fork down and lower my voice to a whisper. “I helped an insane asylum patient escape.”
Reed’s eyes go wide, and the smile immediately drops from his face. “You what?”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“But… why? Why help a patient escape?” He questions.
“Sorry, Reed. I said I’d tell you what I did to get in here. Not the why.”
“Awe, come on! I’ll keep it a secret.” He pouts. “Walt won’t spill the juicy details either.”
When I look over to Walter, he is already staring at me. His eyes, always void of emotion, are full of curiosity. And maybe approval? We hold each other’s stares for another second before his eyes dip to his tray.
I swallow, facing forward as Reed begs me to go into details. Remaining silent, I start to pick up my fork when the door to the cafeteria opens, and an officer steps in.
Officer Colt, who was one of the officers who brought me in, glances around the room until his eyes meet mine.
“Madden!” he yells my name over the crowd. Reed goes silent beside me while my heart races a mile per minute. Officer Colt nods his head, gesturing for me to come to him.
I grip the tray in my hands before I stand to throw the remaining food away. I hear a faint “good luck” from Reed as I leave him and Walter. Around the entire cafeteria, there are curious eyes on me, which isn’t unusual, seeing as I’m new.
Do the other inmates think I did something wrong? Did I do something wrong?
“You are seeing the judge today,” Officer Colt informs me as I approach him.
“Great.” I swallow again, my heart starting to race more than it did when he entered the room.
“Let’s go.” He holds the door open for me, and I am met with another officer who is holding handcuffs.
He doesn’t have to tell me what to do. I turn, placing my hands behind my back for him to secure the cuffs. Once they are tight and I can’t slip my hands out, they both escort me to the van.
“State your name for the case,” the female judge orders with a bored tone.
Her light brown hair is tied back in a tight bun with little flyaways around her face. She seems tired, like being here and dealing with me is less important than other things she could be doing today.
“Leo Madden.” My voice remains steady even though nerves are stirring inside me.
Officer Colt is standing behind me. I have no lawyer beside me because I am guilty. It would have been a waste of money to hire one. I’m not here to fight for my innocence. I am here to get my sentence.
“You are here because you took part in the escape of a patient at Black Lake Asylum.” She peers over her glasses, looking down at me.
“Yes,” I answer, even though her words appear more like a statement.
“In the state of Washington, that is a sentence of five years in prison.” My heart drops to my ass, and I forget how to breathe. “You will serve your sentence at the Washington Corrections Center without bail. However, inmates have been released early due to good behavior. I will grant you that, seeing as this is your first offense.”
A tiny sliver of hope in the darkness.
I could easily get released for good behavior.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod in response.
“That is it, then.” The woman removes her glasses, and her eyes slide to the man behind me. “Officer Colt, please take Mr. Madden back to the center.”
A hand wraps around my arm, and I’m tugged away from the judge. Our footsteps echo on the marble floor, and when the vast wooden door shuts behind us, it is with a loud slam.
The door closing reverberates through the empty lobby as Colt leads us toward the exit with his arm guiding me down the corridor.
Five years in prison—maybe even less—but thinking about it makes me realize that I have to contact my family.
As Officer Colt opens the van's back door for me, I stand still, turning my head to him, and say, “When we get back, I’d like to make my first phone call.”