Slammer

I had no choice. I had to get her out of there if it was the last thing I did. She’d learn to fear me, hate me even. And when I’d pushed too hard, she’d run. At least, I hoped she would. Then she’d be safe and so would I.

I lay back on my bed and settled my arms behind my head. My leg still throbbed a bit, but I pushed the pain away as I ran ideas through my head. Starting the next day, I’d put my plan into action. I gave her a week, if that, before she was running like a scared little girl.

Bye, bye, little Red.

I WASN’T SURE how long I’d slept, but I woke up to the sound of someone saying my name.

“X, wake the fuck up, man.”

I sat up cautiously, nervous that I was about to be taken off guard. It was dinnertime, and I could smell the food wafting in from the chow hall. My stomach rumbled and I turned, setting my feet to the cold floor. Looking up, I saw Scoop standing at my open cell door, ready for the chow line, and I relaxed a little.

Scoop was one of the few people in the prison I was okay with. I didn’t talk to him much, but he talked enough for the both of us. Luckily for me, his cell was right beside mine, which meant some nights I’d fall asleep to his constant chatter.

He’d come in three years after me on a bullshit self-defense charge. Apparently, killing the motherfucker who was trying to kill you was enough to get you fifteen years.

“Fucking Carlos and his boys got you, huh?” he asked.

I nodded.

I didn’t bother asking how he knew. Scoop always knew everything, hence his nickname. Scoop had the scoop. If you ever wanted to know what was going down on the block or in the yard, he was your man. His memory was on point, too. He knew everyone’s records and the details of each of their crimes. I meant sick, twisted shit, too.

He was vigilant—always watching and relaying the information to those who asked for it, which made him a dangerous adversary and fucking awesome ally. He’d saved my ass a few times just by threatening to open his mouth and reveal some fucked-up secret. No one feared him, but they definitely feared the shit he had running around in his head.

The bad news was his knowledge also put a target on his back, which meant a few of the fights I got into were because I was protecting him. He couldn’t defend himself without a gun. He was small and fragile, which meant if he got near his attacker, he was done for.

He’d earned more respect than haters though, which was a good thing, and he wore that respect around him like a suit of armor. It was kind of funny actually.

I stood, my leg still aching, and worked the kinks out of my shoulders and neck.

“You okay, man?” he asked.

Again, I nodded.

“A fucking paper blade to the leg… that sucks, bro. Does it hurt?” He stepped closer to my cell opening and leaned against a bar.

I could hardly believe I’d missed the loud call for chow time or the clinking of my cell opening. Apparently, I’d slept like death.

I shrugged, not wanting to admit how much my leg hurt. I trusted Scoop with my life, but if others found out how bad my leg was hurt, they’d use it as an opportunity to come at me again.

He smiled and winked at me, understanding my reluctance. There were ears everywhere.

“I said it’s chow time,” Officer Reeves said. He came up behind Scoop with his usual sarcastic smirk. “It’s not time for making love, ladies. Either you want to eat or you want to fuck. So move your asses.”

I hated that son of bitch.

Scoop chuckled to himself and started toward the chow line. “Come on, X. No ass for you today. I’m fucking starving.”

He was being sarcastic, obviously, but Officer Reeves’ lips curled in revulsion.

They left instead of waiting for me, and I was glad. I needed to feel my leg out and change. Flinching at my first step, I managed to walk without a limp after a few more, hiding the proof of my injury.

Custody had slipped a fresh uniform in my cell while I was sleeping, so I quickly changed before falling in at the end of the line and walking down the stairs to the cafeteria. I deposited my bloody uniform into the laundry chute before meeting up with Scoop.

We waited like children with our lunch trays in hand, and I took in my surroundings, reading the mood of the room.

Dinner was everyone’s favorite part of the day, other than rec time, of course. The food was tasteless, but it was food. And sometimes during dinner, we’d get a dry piece of cake with something that resembled icing. It was a treat considering the alternative.

Everyone was tired from the day, so dinnertime was usually more laid back and friendly. There’d be jokes among the groups and banter between friends and gang affiliations.