26. Chapter 26 - Zachariah
Darty taps his clipboard. “Consuming contraband out in the open?” He lets out a humorless chuckle and twirls his pen between two fingers. “You were so close to getting out of here. What a shame.”
The cracker turns to sawdust in my mouth, but I force it down. Keep my face blank. Act like I don’t care—like it doesn’t matter—even though my gut’s twisting and every part of me is screaming to fix this.
I need to be with Minnie and our son. This was my one chance to have everything.
“It isn’t contraband,” I say with a growl. And consider lunging at him and beating him to a pulp.
If it wasn’t for the prison ward, I’d shift. Always do when I feel rage. But my powers don’t work behind these walls, so I remain in my human form.
“It really isn’t,” Alyssa says. She’s calm, a smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You can buy these from the commissary.”
“Yeah, but you smuggled them in.”
She absolutely did since I’ve never seen her buy anything from the commissary, but she calmly says. “If we can buy them from the prison, it’s not contraband. Show me the rule that says crackers are banned.”
Dart Dick sputters a few times. “You’re an idiot, Beaver,” he growls, even though he’s the real idiot here. Asshole’s already made enemies of all the prisoners and most of the guards. He’s got no sense of self preservation, and I wonder who’ll beat him up first. I have no doubt someone will.
Dartwad leans his hands on our table, invading our personal space.
“Only an idiot would pass up on parole,” he chuckles, eyes glued to Alyssa.
“I’m going to ignore what you’re eating this time.
” He glances at me. “But only to prove that you won’t last. I give you a year, tops, before you’re back in here.
You scum always come back. Should just lock you up for life. ”
I bunch my hands into fists, but Alyssa kicks me under the table—a painful reminder to stay still and not fall for Dart Fuck’s shit. He’s trying to provoke me. He wants me to clock him so I don’t get released. What kind of asshole does that?
I take a bite of my soggy sandwich—the one I wasn’t planning to touch—and hope I don’t regret it. But whatever happens, I’ll handle it.
I’m Ri now. Not Zachy, the kid who used to follow his mom from house to house, watching her turn each place from a mess to clean, like magic.
Not Zach, the teen who shifted into a feather duster because his sick mom was the most important person in his life.
The duster would sit by the door, unused, while she was bed bound, and I kept hoping she’d get to use it again.
She did once she recovered—thank fuck—but my shifted form was set for life.
A constant reminder of the object that meant the most to me on the day I shifted for the first time.
A fucking feather duster.
I hated it. Hated that it reminded me of the time when Mom was pale and weak, unable to cross the room without getting out of breath.
Hated how the teasing was relentless. How some guys kept trying to piss me off because I shifted when I got mad—and then they’d laugh their asses off, making me more mad, and I’d be stuck like that, unable to shift back.
I used to wish I could shift into a baseball, or a football, or at least a giant block of ice like Xavier Ishigura—who’d ice block whenever he heard the word pop quiz and take out every desk in the vicinity.
I chuckle at the memory, and Dart Shit scowls. “You worthless piece of shit losers think everything’s funny. You won’t be laughing the day you’re back in here.”
The desire to punch him grows, but I keep my anger in check. Wonder if I’d still shift if it weren’t for the prison wards.
Tomorrow, they won’t be there. I’ll finally feel the magic flowing through my veins and shift again.
“You’re trying to provoke him.” Alyssa gets to her feet.
Dart Fart backs up, his sense of self-preservation finally kicking in. “Are you threatening me, Beaver?”
She takes a step toward him. “I’m just talking. Does that make you feel scared?”
Dart Dipshit turns a deep shade of red, and a vein on his forehead starts to bulge. “Threatening a guard,” he shouts, “unbolting a bench—”
“Hey, Marty with a D,” Vigga—one of the few decent guards in this place—walks over to join us. “I didn’t take you for one to fraternize with the prisoners.”
“It’s Darty,” he scowls at her. “And I was not fraternizing.”
“You’ve been with these two so long, everyone else is done eating those things Paul calls sandwiches.”
I resist the urge to make mine talk while Dart Dick looks around, realizes she’s right. He glares at us. “I’m putting you both in solitary.”
“He’s just teasing,” Vigga says. “I think he likes you.”
Dart Dick looks like he wants to break something. Possibly her neck. “Beaver threatened me,” he says. “They’re eating contraband.”
“Crackers are sold in the commissary,” Alyssa reminds him.
Vigga nods. “Do you need another tour of the place, Mart-D?”
“Darty. And forget the crackers. She was threatening me,” Dumdart points a finger at her, sounding like a petulant child.
“Don’t know what he’s talking about,” Alyssa says. “I was just going to therapy.”
Vigga shakes her head. “Sounds like he’s just trying to get your attention. Are you trying to befriend prisoners, Mart-D?”
I roll my eyes and Alyssa makes a gagging sound.
“I’m not befriending them,” Dart Fart shouts, drawing the gazes of the few prisoners who are still in the cafeteria. “They’re worthless lowlifes.”
Alyssa crosses her arms and looked Darty over. ”Some people are.”
Pretty sure the sentiment’s unanimous, and a few prisoners look like they’re willing to face solitary to beat him to a pulp. Guy really is an idiot.
“There’s definitely a rule about fraternizing.” Vigga’s eyes twinkle. “I’ll have to consult the book.”
She means the Prison Warden’s Guide, which I’ve read several times. Not much else to do round here, and it’s an interesting read. Learned that a vampire opened this place in the 1600s and created a bunch of archaic rules, few of which have been updated over the years.
“I do not fraternize,” Dart Dick snaps.
“I’ll have to report this infraction,” Vigga adds, as if she hadn’t heard him. “See what the shift commander has to say.”
I’m pretty sure the shift commander would be all over it, since she thinks documenting infractions is her ticket to moving up to Deputy Warden.
“I wasn’t fraternizing,” Dart Dick shouts.
“If you say so,” Vigga drawls. “Hey, speaking of therapy, you should go.”
He scowls. “And I don’t need therapy.”
Vigga looks like she’s trying hard not to laugh. “I meant escort the prisoner to therapy. But someone doth protest too much.”
“Fine,” he scowls. “Follow me.”
I don’t like Alyssa going anywhere with the asshole, but I know she can handle herself.
“Don’t like that guy,” Vigga mutters once they’re out of hearing range. “Someone really needs to slap Marty with a D. Ideally with an actual D. Metal or wooden would be nice—but I guess any D will do. Not you obviously, Ri. Don’t you dare do anything that messes up your parole, you hear?”
I nod. “I won’t.”
I’m going to walk out of this place tomorrow, put a ring on Minnie’s finger, and marry her.
Maybe not all on the same day—but we’re going to be a family.
Me, her and Natty. The three of us against the world.
Like a perfect triangle that can’t be broken—everything I’ve dreamed about on all the long, lonely nights behind bars.
But more than that, I’m going to spend every day making the two of them happy.
Minnie’s been stuck in the same loop for years—wake up, take care of Natty, do it all over again. All because I screwed up and got myself locked away.
Me? I want that life. Crave it after years behind bars.
But Minnie? She deserves more. She deserves excitement. Something that gets her heart racing. Something that feels like living.