CHAPTER 10
Agrey hue spilt in from the windows, rain battering against them, which only meant one thing.
All inmates confined to even less space than usual.
Recipe for disaster if you ask me, and the guards knew it.
You could see it on their faces, the flickering eyes as soon as someone moved a little too quickly.
Anticipating the rage-filled teens to pop off at any given moment.
It left only one choice for us, the rec room. It always had this hum, a kind of restless energy that filled the gaps between the scuffed pool tables, battered sofas, and the dull flicker of the TV bolted to the far wall. It was loud, too many bodies with nowhere else to go.
I’d left the quietness of the cell to distract myself from thoughts of Squeeks, after spending most of the morning staring at her picture. It only made me feel even more homesick. Not to see my mum or that shit head Danny. But because she wasn’t part of my life right now.
I drifted down the bleak corridors as the noise from the rec room grew in volume the closer I got. I walked in, hands deep in my pockets, my eyes quickly falling onto Misfit.
Her coiled frame hunched on the sofa next to Nate of all people, that fucker who’d been sniffing around her ever since he showed up, laughing too loud when she passed, cracking half-jokes with eyes that lingered.
Why was she even giving him the time of day? Especially after the fucking scolding she gave me for trying to protect her from his hungry eyes. Thinking better of it, I slid past them, heading towards a quieter corner where I could observe the other lads' interactions without being asked questions.
“I heard Malik got out today,” Nate said, loud enough for the room to hear. “Must be a relief not having to share a cell with the charity case anymore.”
Eyes shifted towards me as I stopped walking. I wasn’t after trouble, but didn’t mean I wouldn’t start the fire if he wanted to light the match.
My hands curled beneath the fabric of my pockets as shifting laughter cut in.
Another voice followed, low and mocking. “I heard Screech cries in his sleep.”
Laughter built around me as my feet remained planted to the spot; a blinding heat of rage started to take over.
It felt like being back at school all over again.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching Nate slip his arm around Misfit's shoulders, and I could see her skin ripple with disgust. Nate leaned in close, dragging her in with his taunting tone.
“Maybe they’ll let him bunk with you next,” he laughed. “You girls can share secrets.”
I turned, forcing myself into his space.
“Say that again,” I said, my tone firm. Nate grinned, teeth yellow and crooked.
“Which part?”
My fist hit him before he even had a second to process my movements.
Bone to flesh. A satisfying thud as he stumbled back into the plastic table, scattering cards across the floor. The second guy moved, but I was already shoving forward, knuckles flying, rage uncoiling fast and hot from somewhere deep and long ignored.
I don’t know how many punches landed before the guards tore us apart, two of them dragging me back, arms locked around mine like vices.
“Get him out!” A guard barked. I struggled against them, spitting blood on the floor as I locked rage-fuelled eyes with Nate, who was wiping his mouth and still trying to look cocky through the bruise forming under his eye.
As they shoved me toward the door, I caught a glimpse of Misfit watching, a magazine limp in her lap.
No expression on her face. Just those dark eyes, flicking between us.
The guard's thick fingers were digging into the meat of my shoulders as my boots scraped along the linoleum. I was still thrashing, not because I thought I could break free, but because I hadn’t figured out how to shut the fire off.
“Get the fuck off me!” I barked, twisting against their grip. My voice echoed down the corridor, raw and guttural.
“Calm down, McCabe,” one of them growled. “You brought this on yourself.”
I spat back, “Fuck you, the cunt deserved it.” My boots slammed into the wall as I kicked out. One of the guards shoved me harder into the opposite side, ribs bouncing off the concrete. I barely felt it. Couldn’t feel anything but that white-hot rage still licking at the back of my skull.
Every step was a blur of rage and memory.
The blood on Nate’s face.
The smirk that didn’t go away.
Misfit’s expressionless stare from across the room.
She saw everything and still stayed quiet.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, a bit more of a bite back from her, but she did nothing.
I bit the inside of my cheek till it bled, stopping myself from reeling off all the things I now wanted to do to that fucker the moment I got a chance.
Lights flickered overhead as the noise grew quieter the further we went.
“You done fighting?” the other guard said, leaning into my ear.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t done; I was calculating my next move against Nate.
They finally reached the Solitary wing. Big grey steel doors lined either side of the walls.
One guard fumbled with the keys, the other kept me pinned against the wall, assuming I would make a run for it.
As the lock clicked, I stared at the narrow cell ahead.
A concrete box. Thin mattress on the floor like a coffin lid, a toilet in the corner, and walls that were decorated with claw marks from previous occupants. My heart slammed harder because I knew what was waiting in there. Not just silence, but something bleaker.
The guards shoved me inside as the door clanged shut. Darkness, broken only by a slit of artificial light through the vent. I turned quickly, slamming my hands against the coldness of the door.
“Tell that prick he'd better be waiting for me when I get out of this. He’s as good as dead.” But the rage didn’t leave. It didn’t dissolve in the dark or slink away into the corners. No, it sat down beside me like an old friend.
Time stopped meaning anything in solitary. There was no clock, no sun, no outside noise beyond the occasional distant clank of a food tray or a shout muffled by layers of concrete.
I counted the lines in the bricks, thirty-seven stacked up from floor to ceiling on the longest wall. I traced them with my eyes until I could see them even when I closed them. Then I’d start over.
Sleep didn’t come right. It came jagged. I’d doze for minutes, maybe hours, wake up with my heart pounding and my fists clenched like I’d been fighting in dreams I couldn’t remember. On the second or third day, things started to shift. I could feel it happening, but didn’t want it to stop.
At first, it was just my own voice in my head. Telling myself I’d get through this. That it wasn’t the worst thing I’d been through. I think this is how movie villains are made. Stick 'em in solitary, stand back, and watch the demons descend. Or that’s how it felt.
It wasn’t until the voice that spoke back to me one day… wasn’t mine. Or it was, but it was twisted, like the edge of a blade pressed just under the skin. He’d whisper to me.
You’re not breaking mate. He’d whisper. You’re protecting yourself.
I felt like I had lost it, maybe I already had. But I’d talk to him, to me, under my breath. But he’d ask questions I didn’t want to answer.
Why didn’t you end him when you had the chance? It would have been easy. All that blood could have saved you.
Why didn’t you burn that house down with them inside while they slept? The screaming would have been like a symphony to your ears.
You let them touch you? Run their lips over your skin? Let them fuck you? Clawing with their dirty hands.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore him, flooding my mind with visions.
The darkening shadow looming over me was starting to feel comfortable.
As the days went on, I began to give it more control over my mind in the silence of my cell.
Had this part of me always existed? Just remained dormant until this very moment.
This version of me was ready to be unleashed from its cage, like a ravaged dog that had been starved, and I was happy to sit back and let it cause chaos.
The door opened with a hiss like a beast breathing in. Light leaked into the dark, stabbing at my eyes. A smirk crawled onto my face as I just stared through it, past the guards, past the corridor.
“Let’s go, McCabe.” My legs moved, heavy and stiff like they forgot what walking felt like.
My wrists burned where the cuffs dug into my skin.
The guards yanked me forward, back down the corridor.
No one spoke on the walk back. The guards watching my every move.
Not like they used to. Not like a kid who might mouth off or swing if pushed too far.
Now they watched me like a threat, unsure if I should’ve been let out at all.
I didn’t say a word on the walk back to my cell.
Other lads stopped in their tracks as the guards led me through the cell block.
Solitary had changed me. It had stripped the softness that was left, the thin, fraying thread between me and the things I used to care about.
It took the last of that and left something else in its wake.
My revenge had grown teeth in the silence, and it was hungry.
They dropped me back in my cell, the bunk opposite still vacant after Malik’s release. I guess they held off giving me another cellmate. But I welcomed it. Let them enter the ring. Let’s see who’s left standing at the end of it all.
Around me, the block buzzed to life: loud voices, rushing footsteps, the guards' walkie-talkies emitting static noises somewhere down the hall. But in my head, it was calculating and planning, revising. Even Chester appeared, somewhere in the blur of it all, his voice echoing from some better version of me, warning me not to fall too far. I chuckled at the thought; it was too late for that. I wasn’t interested in being rescued anymore.
I wanted control, power, payback!