The next day I’m woken up by my stomach summersaulting violently and the sound of my cell door opening.
Mike enters carrying a white box.
“What’s that?” I ask still sleepy.
“I got you some things.” He replies, and I frown. “When I woke up this morning I noticed some, er, blood.” I look down at my light grey trackies and my sheets and notice a dark blob on both.
I groan. “Oh my god that’s so embarrassing.”
He smiles slightly, “don’t be embarrassed.” He says. “I told the guards that my sugar levels felt low and got some lady, er, items from Sara.”
“Thank you.” I breath out. He opens the box and I jump down from my bunk. My head goes slightly dizzy and my cramps kick in.
“Woah!” Michael holds me up straight. “You good?”
“Mhmm.” I take a tampon from a fresh pack, clean underwear and clothes and then go to the back of the cell. “Can you cover the front, please?” I ask him.
“Sure.” He grabs a sheet and hangs it up before turning and facing away from me. I start to open the packet and then I decide to be extra safe and wear a pad as well.
“Whoever created the packaging for this stuff could have made it quieter, not everyone wants to know I’m on period.” I talk as if one of my girlfriends is here. Which they’re not. Everything I just said probably confused him. But he laughs anyway even if it did. “Why blood? Why can’t it be like… fairy dust or something?” I continue.
“If we weren’t in here I would run you a really hot shower, and let you be in there as long as you like, while you did that I would warm up your clothes in the dryer and find a load of chick flicks and chocolate for you.” He says facing the wall still.
I finish up washing my hands and go over to him putting my hands around his neck and he places his on my hips. “You’re too cute.” I say slightly sarcastically. “Great first date huh.” I joke.
“I’m not counting any of this as dates. Only once we get on the outside.”
“This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a girl, period talk. Is that something I’ll have to get used to?” He jokes.
“Sorry you had to wake up to that.” I say looking at the floor.
“Don’t apologise.” He scolds me. “There’s nothing to apologise for.” I run my thumb on his cheek and just hug him.
“You know this won’t last, I’ll probably be ready to kill you in an hour. My mood swings are pretty crazy.” I forewarn him.
“I can handle it.” He assures me. “Besides that rage might come into use if anyone tries any funny business with you.” He smiles at his words and then I kiss him. “Out of interest what is your favourite chick flick?”
“Um? Probably, oh god there’s so many, er, Mean Girls?” I decide. “But I’m more into like crime series and movies. Things like that.” I tell him.
He nods his head, “favourite chocolate?”
“Er, Lindt truffles.”
“I will remember this information.” He whispers. I rest my head on his chest as we’ve moved onto his bottom bunk. “I really like you, you know.” It shocks me when he says this. He really doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to talk about feelings at all. I pull my head up and look into his beautiful eyes. I get lost in them for a minute until his melodic laugh pulls me out of the trance.
“I really like you too.” I reply sounding like a teenage school girl. I rest my head back on his chest and he strokes my arm gently. “Can I tell you something?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise you won’t think differently of me?”
“I won’t.”
“Bellick, er, well I, um, I came to Fox River, a, er, I came here a virgin.” I say.
“What?” His whole body stiffens.
“Bellick was my, was my first.” I repeat slowly, before rapidly saying, “I know you’re probably thinking how could I have not by now, I mean I am twenty and I had a fiancé but he was a firm believer in no sex before marriage and, oh god, this is embarrassing, forget I said anything.”
He gets up quite fast leaving me sat on the bunk and starts to pace the small space. “You’re joking?”
“You said you wouldn’t think differently of me.”
“I don’t, well I didn’t think you were a virgin, but Bellick, Bellick stole your innocence. He doesn’t love you. How could he do that?” His voice is starting to raise but he doesn’t get loud enough for other cell mates to hear.
“Calm down.”
“Are you okay? Really? Really, are you okay?”
“It was weeks ago, I just wanted to tell you, to tell someone. I, I’m fine.” He runs his hand through his little amount of hair, and then pulls me into a hug stroking my hair. “Really, I’m okay.”
“I am so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Still.”
“How did you do all this?” I ask changing the subject.
“What do you mean?”
“No normal person could do the things you do. This elaborate plan, knowing everything.”
“I did my homework.”
“No. There’s more than that. To remember all this, to know exactly the bolt size. Did you know that I finished my finals early here in America and then I went to England when I was 16 to study something they call A Levels? Well I did,” I continue seeing his closed reaction. “And there I studied Product Design for my want to become a designer, Psychology and Sociology where I learnt a lot about the human brain for two years. Then I travelled back here at 18 and went to the Loyola University of Chicago to study Science, while working part time as an Interior Designer. I didn’t want to take a gap year so I jumped straight in, my course was supposed to be 3 years but I was arrested during my first at the age of 19 so I couldn’t continue, but I still learnt a lot. During my science degree I continued to learn about medicine for mental illnesses and about Psychology and I have to say no one else’s eyes are constantly scanning the room they’re in as if they’re taking in every detail just like yours are. I’ve done my homework too.”
He looks at me startled at my back story and my studying. It takes him a moment to process what I’ve said before replying.
“I am taking in every detail.” I just look at him, waiting for him to elaborate on that. He sighs deeply. “Have you ever heard of Low Latent Inhibition?”
I can’t help but laugh slightly. “That makes sense. Mixed with a high IQ someone like you is medically termed, a creative genius.”
“True.” He confirms. “I find it really hard to switch my brain off, I can’t filter what goes in and I can’t make any of it leave. From the lines on your fingers I can tell you usually wear a diamond ring on your right fore finger a thin diamanté band on you index and on your left hand a thin flat band on your thumb and one on your middle finger.” I look down at my hands and the tan lines that indicate where my rings used to be. “I can tell exactly what bolts are used on that bed frame and what bulbs are in the lights just be glancing at them.”
“When did you develop it?”
“When I was a kid my foster dad used to lock me in a closet so my eyes adjusted to darkness and learned to scan my surroundings looking for ways out.” He explains. “He used to beat me, which made me lose all my confidence. I lost all sense of self worth if ever had.” He puts his head in his hands. “I can’t block out the suffering of anyone around me. I do anything to fix their problem other than my own because they are more important to fix.”
“That’s why you care so much about what Bellick did.”
“I need to know you aren’t suffering like I was, in silence.” I grab him into a caring hug and don’t let go.
Soon enough it’s time for P.I which means Michael will have to stop giving me pity glances while the others are around.
While the po are hanging around us we work on actually making the place usable. But as soon as they leave I become look out for the hammering of the floor to begin. Then back on the yard we get rid of the crumbled pieces of concrete. Sprinkling then and then stamping on them to make them less noticeable.
Soon a bus pulls up outside the fence. “Freshman.” T-Bag growls sort-of sadistically and a line of men come pouring out towards Fox River.
“Looks like I’ve got to find something else to call you now.” Sucre says to Michael as we walk back into the cell block.
“Whys that?” He replies smirking.
“Because you ain’t a Fish no more, you ain’t the newest con in the tank no m…” he stops dead looking up at the cells on the floor above. We follow his gaze. Seth, T-Bags latest follower is climbing over the railing with something sheets tied around his neck and trailing back into a cell. He jumps and we hear the thud of his breaking neck.
I can just see his dangling feet but look away quickly from the scene.
*
“I could have done something.” Michael says in church.
“No.” Lincoln replies. “T-Bag had his hooks in that kid there’s nothing you could have done.”
“Linc’s right Mike.” I agree.
“I could have told the Pope. He could have transferred the kid to Adsack he would have been safe.”
“Go easy Michael. You didn’t even know him.”
“And that makes it okay? I turned my back on him because I didn’t want to make waves it was just, easier to look the other way.” This is his immense empathy toward people talking. His morals are so high. He’s the best man. “Keep the plan safe.” He whispers, sounding a little like T-Bag.
“You did.”
“But at what price? That’s not how she raised us.” I lean back in my chair and look at the window across the room. This isn’t my conversation any more. I stay out of others family business. “A man’s down you give him your hand.” That doesn’t stop me listening though. “She’d roll over in her grave if she knew what I’d become.”
“No she wouldn’t.” Lincoln replies harshly. “You’ve given me your hand Michael. My sons out there with a bulls eye on his back, do whatever you’ve got to do to get us out of here. Please.”
In P.I Lincoln takes a wack at the floor strongly with a hammer and doesn’t stop. “Hey hey hey hey, slow down.” Abruzzi says, but he’s soft with his voice, he gets the situation. “Slow down.” He repeats when Linc hits the floor again. “Man, your brothers gonna give us away.” He says to Mike. But he lets him continue.
Sucre comes busting in, “Po’s coming.” He alerts us. We instantly react covering up the hole.
“Everybody out.” He comes in and tells us.
“What?” T-Bag asks.
“I said everybody out. Now.” We do as told and start to file out. “Move it.”
“Where are we going?” Mike asks.
“Wait down there. Round the corner and don’t move a damn muscle until I come to get you.” He says. “Go.”
“What the hells going on?” Sucre asks
“There not onto us are they?” I add. We wait around nervously and keep checking around the corner to see what’s going on.
“You’ve got to give us more of a warning next time.”
“I’m sorry.” Sucre replies to Mike. “He just showed up.” Eventually the door opens and he starts to lead away Becky, the Wardens secretary as she adjusts her skirt pretending nothing happened.
“Sneaky son of a bitch.” Lincoln says.
“Think he found the hole?” Sucre asks and we head back over. Michael crouches to the leg of the table placed over the hole.
“Another inch and he’d have found it. We need to find something to cover this hole asap.”
Back in the cell block one of the new boys starts to agitate some of the men once again. He talks as if he’s black and this really pisses off the inmates. Eventually one guy punches him in the stomach.
“Woah woah,” T-Bag runs over to him up, clearly he wants a new recruitment. “The boy just slipped.” He tells a guard. Then he whispers something in the boys ear. He slaps him down of muck, “come on stand up. What’s your name boy?” He continues to talk to him and then moves out of ear shot.
But still the next day the boy tries to move in on the blacks. He gains abuse from all of them and the whites. He is not popular. And T-Bag tries him again. This time he tries to get friendly and puts his hand on the boys knee. The boy pushes him off and stands up. T-Bag won’t like that. I start to walk over to them to defend the boy and make sure he’s not touched but Michael holds me back. “Just leave it nothing will happen.”
“Your gonna have to sleep with one eye open bitch.” T-Bag follows him into the cell block shouting abusive phrases his way.
“Maybe you’re gonna leave that kid alone.” Michael suggests as we pop out from the side lines.
“And maybe you’re in no position to get in my business.” T-Bag replies. “Hm?” When we stay silent he replies, “that’s what I thought.”
That night T-Bag starts to chant one of sickly songs from his cell aimed at the boy. I’m stood at the entrance of our cell leaning my arms on the horizontal bars.
“Oh tweener,” he drags out the ‘e’ sounds. “Errrrr, I am coming.” He sings. He repeats himself in a vile tune and from where I’m standing I can see the boy sat at the end of his bunk crying his eyes out silently. Bless him. Michael joins me looking at the scene and I can see on his face how seeing someone cry physically pains him.
“Shut up T-Bag some people are trying to sleep.” I call out into the dark.
“Alright missy.” He sings one last time before finally shutting up and the boy glances up at me knowing that I’ve been watching him cry.
The morning doesn’t bring any delightful sounds. I wake to someone screaming in pain, clearly being attacked by his cell mate.
In the yard T-Bags crew won’t leave the kid alone they follow him and block him from playing the ball game, pulling down his trousers and just embarrassing him.
“Can’t we do anything without T-Bag giving us away?” I ask Michael holding his hand lightly barely touching each other and leaning on the fence.
“I’m working on it.” He replies.
“I, er,” we turn around to see Sara on the other side of the fence. “I just wanted you to know that if you’re looking for someone to talk to in here you know you’re not alone. It’s part of my job to council inmates and to help them with their problems.” She tells Michael.
“I think I have things pretty well figured out.” He replies glancing at me for only a second. She looks down at our conjoined hands but looks straight back up again. I’m not the type to get jealous but is she trying to move in on him?
“I sort of backed into some information about you.” She begins. “I hope you don’t mind, but you have to understand that there’s a reason I became a doctor it’s in my nature to want to help.” Is she trying to tell him she see’s all the suffering too? She’s trying to compare herself to him, trying to show they have something in common. “From what I understand it’s in your nature too?” She asks, but she already knows, and confirms my suspicions. “You did a lot of things before you were in here, a lot of community work, a lot of charity work. What happened?”
“The man you’re talking about died the second I walked into these walls.” I look at him surprised but he squeezes my fingers as reassurance that he’s only saying that. “And my cell mate happens to be a trained Psychologist.” He looks at me.
“Alright.” She says disappointed and then walks away.
“I’m not fully trained you know.”
“I know.” He replies.
We enter the guards room ready to work again and Michael picks up a crowbar lying around, instantly he aims a hit at an un-expecting Theodore Bagwell’s knee. He groans and hits the floor. “This ends now.” Michael tells him.
T-Bag calls for a guard very loudly but I put my hands on his shoulders signalling for him to shut it.
“If you want to sing, then sing.” Michael goes on. “But you know what I think? You don’t have the guts. You want out of here just as much as the rest of us.” At that moment an officer opens the door.
“Is there a problem here?” He asks. T-Bag looks at Michael intently who looks straight back at him before replying.
“No. Nah I, er,” he gets up. “I thought we was uh missing some tools here. My bad.” He lies.
“Get back to work.” The officer says before leaving irritated.
“Now,” Michael gets back to the conversation. “You and I may be stuck together in this little dance but I call the shots, first shot, that kid out there, you don’t touch him, ever.” He says. “Do we understand each other?”
“We do.” T-Bag gulps after what seems like forever.
“Out of the way,” Bellick comes into the room. “Abruzzi.” He says, walking forward right over the hole. But he doesn’t fall. “You and me we gotta have a conversation.” He says. Abruzzi follows him out and I shit the door after them.
“How come he didn’t fall through?” Lincoln asks.
“Improvisation.” I reply as Michael pulls back the burnt rug, revealing the photo board of guards over the hole. Michael smiles at me. “Don’t mention it.” I say before he opens his mouth.
When we go back into the yard Michael and I watch as T-Bag hobbles past the bleachers that the kid is sat on. He stops and looks straight at him. The boy looks around slightly worried before coming out with a remark, “you tripping on something, Alice?” He really doesn’t help his own case.
T-Bag looks over at us watching the scene. He bites his lip and stays still for a moment the boy growing more nervous by the second. Then he simply walks on. “Yeah.” The kid gets up smiling. “That’s what I thought.” He throws an empty threat at his back and smiles in our general direction as means of a thanks. Although I’m pretty sure it wasn’t for Michael at all.
“What. The. Hell?” I ask seeing a group of inmates dressed in the P.I uniform waking over to the guards room. The team gathers at the fence nearest and watches on.
“Bellick?” John calls over. “Boss? Boss? What’s happening? What do you think you’re doing?”
“Fixing the break room.” Bellick replies.
“What are you talking about? That’s P.I! I run it.” He says getting irritated. Over the past day John’s started losing his rep.
“Not any more you don’t.” Bellick replies.
I hit the fence in frustration.
“That’s f*cking ridiculous.” I shout. “He can’t f*cking do that. What the f*uck?” I hit the fence again. “What bought this on, f*ucking twat.” Michael grabs my wrists and pulls me away knowing it will take me a while to calm down. Living in a cell with me while I’m on my period can’t be the most enjoyable thing.
But he’s angry too. I can tell.
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