Lockdown continues, but by the fifth day a routine has formed in this new prison life of mine. Mace and I spend the day working out and eating together, and in our quiet time—when we're not bickering—we sit on his bed and I summarize series for him.
It started when I realized he hadn't seen Game of Thrones; once I started telling him about it, Mace became unusually interested to hear more. Telling stories passes the time and gives us something to talk about that won't start a fight. We've both come to enjoy it.
Just after dinner, when Mace and I are laying on his bed and I'm about to get into the Red Wedding, the steel door to our cell begins to creak open. We both freeze in disbelief when we see Lieutenant Bridges through the window, pulling the door open.
"This is cute," Bridges says, gesturing our proximity to each other as he steps inside our cell. A few guards linger in the mezzanine, and even the tiniest glance at them has my heart stopping. I can see Ox's shadowed face in the small window of his steel door again. "I didn't peg you as a cuddler, Mace."
I can feel Mace's body tense beside me, but he stands quickly and I follow his lead.
Bridges' honey-brown eyes are sharp as ever. They lock on me, and his piercing gaze is almost unbearable. I had long forgotten about the bruise on my jaw from Mace punching me, but the Lieutenant tsk's disappointedly as he glances at it.
"What do you want, Lieutenant?" Mace growls. Despite our occasional fights, it's been a while since I've seen Mace actually on edge. It's making my own skin prickle—like danger is near and he's sniffed it out.
"Did you do this to him?" Bridges asks, tone so icy I get chills from it. He takes a step forward, poking a long finger straight into the bruise on my jaw; it takes all I have not to react or wince. At Mace's lack of response, Bridges sighs again, but continues in a low voice so only we can hear him. "Is this going to be a problem, Mace? Do I need to make other arrangements for the boy?"
Other arrangements? Bridges said it himself; Mace is the best option.
"I'm fine," I insist, offering a weak laugh and trying to diffuse the tension. The Lieutenant looks at me with that familiar disgust, then he finally takes his eyes off me to stare Mace down.
"What do you want?" Mace repeats, eyes darkening. "You don't make a habit out of visits like this."
Bridges gestures at me. "I'm taking him to the Warden," he begins, voice still fucking poisonous. "I'm supposed to show him how well off the boy is." The uniformed Lieutenant takes a small step towards Mace, practically hissing the next words. "Just how am I going to do that now?"
I'm so hyper aware of Mace that I notice his fists balling before anyone. I don't think I could hold him back, but I don't even get a chance to. Bridges is fast—and stronger than I suspected. One punch is all it takes for Mace to drop to the ground.
But Bridges doesn't stop at just one. He pulls out his baton as Mace groans on the ground holding his head. Flashbacks of my first night consume my vision.
Ox on his knees… dragged back beaten and bloody…
"Stop!" I screech before I can think. I don't even command my body to move, I simply drop beside Mace and try to shield him from the baton. "Stop—Mace didn't—"
Bridges pulls me up by my hair and for a second I think he's going to throw me to the side so he can continue what he started. It'd be that easy for him. But once he bends my neck far enough that I can make eye contact, I start begging like my life depends on it.
"He didn't do anything to me!" I shout. "Please—don't hurt him!" The pain of enduring my hair being pulled by the roots is excruciating; I fight tearing up with everything I have until finally Bridges lets go of me.
"You stink," he says, ignoring everything I've said and even the way Mace is sitting up, holding the side of his face.
"We've been locked in here without showers for a week," I reply defensively. Sponge baths were the best we had; Mace and I used one of his old t-shirts and rinsed ourselves from the tiny sink after working out.
"Just shut up and turn around," Bridges orders, but he barely gives me the time to obey. He shoves me against concrete and cuffs my hands behind my back in seconds. When I'm spun around and facing the door to the cell, I get a weird, dizzying feeling in the pit of my stomach. A dark anxiety accompanies the thought that I'll be away from Mace.
For the first time.
I look back at him—not able to hide how terrified I feel. Mace's grey eyes are murderous. If looks could kill, Bridges would combust into flames right now.
I don't want to be away from Mace. I don't want to leave him behind. I need him.
As the guards lock the steel door to our cell, I catch Ox at his window. His face is always shadowed—it's hard to see it fully—but there's no mistaking that his lips pucker into a kiss. For me?
"You're so gentle with Kitty," he sings out to Bridges.
The Lieutenant tightens his grip on my arm as if all he wants to do is prove Ox wrong. But we're on the way to the Warden—there's no way he'd risk that. Instead, I'm violently marched through the Third Block by a tight-lipped Bridges who appears to be just barely holding it together.
Once we're in the quiet of the halls he stops ignoring me.
"What happened to your face?"
"Mace and I were just horsing around…"
"Why is Ox calling you Kitty?"
"I don't know, I haven't even talked to him yet!"
"Yet?" he repeats, breathing dangerously as he stomps down the empty corridors and follows a confusing maze of paths to the Warden's office. "Are you seriously treating all this as a joke?"
I'm reminded of Mace—and strangely, I already feel a deep ache inside me at his absence.
Even though if he was here right now, he'd be taking Bridges' side.
"I'm not treating it as a joke!" I manage, almost tripping over myself at the way I'm being forced to keep up with the Lieutenant. "I haven't even done—"
"Save it for someone who believes you," Bridges scoffs, continuing along a long corridor. Some guards are stationed at the far end of it. "I warned you not to make eyes at these animals. But even Mace?" He shakes his head in disbelief.
A boiling anger starts building inside me, heating my cheeks and making me shake. There is something terribly unjust about being thrown into this situation by this very man, just to be blamed for things I haven't even done.
"I haven't made eyes at anyone," I snap, though instinct tells me I should probably shut my mouth now. "Least of all Mace!"
Bridges stops abruptly in the middle of the long corridor. The guards at the end of the hall are staring at us curiously as the uniformed Lieutenant rounds on me like I've insulted his mother.
"I've known Mace a long time, Kid," Bridges breathes softly—dangerously. "What I saw back there? Almost made me puke."
I don't know how to process all the anger swirling in my head. I'm insulted, hurt, and feel an odd sort of protection for the man who has done nothing but care for me since I got here.
Bridges has no idea what he's talking about.
"Maybe I should have a talk with him?" the Lieutenant threatens, voice still soft.
I know what "a talk" means now, after witnessing Ox's beating. When my eyes fly open in horror, I catch the way Bridges must enjoy this tormenting.
"Don't," I beg. "He's only doing what you told him to do!"
"I don't remember telling him to take you to his bed and fuck up your face." Bridges' tall frame leans forwards so he can intimately hiss out the next words. "Wasn't that all you?"
Ugh.
The Lieutenant is enjoying all of it; twisting the situation, making me feel embarrassed… making me plead for mercy. I dig as deep as I can inside myself to think of something—anything—I can say.
"Huh?" Bridges prompts. "Do you like being covered in bruises like this?" One hand pulls at my jaw and the other points to my arms where a few more are visible.
I purse my lips stubbornly. There's nothing I can say to this maniac who'll just twist it all no matter what. All I can do is hold his challenging stare and not blink.
"Let's make a deal," the Lieutenant finally offers, smile fading at the way I won't take his bait. "You tell the Warden how great I am—how great Third Block is—and I'll let you stay with Mace."
Let me? Unbelievable. Where else would I go where I wouldn't be raped… or killed?
I open my mouth to protest, but Bridges isn't done with his deal.
"The gifts—the extra guards—the private showers… I can take those all away. So, think carefully."
Do I even have a choice? Thinking about it, I would do a lot to stay with Mace—to not have him ripped from our cell and tortured. I glance to the ground as I contemplate exactly the position I'm in.
And then, suddenly, I'm hit with a stroke of brilliance.
"Okay," I say finally, summoning the will to look him in the eyes again. "But you need to lift lockdown—for Knuckle too."
Bridges rolls his eyes to the concrete ceiling. "Knuckle?" he repeats, as if I've said something absurd. "That dumbass will be in confinement for two months, at least."
I can't cross my arms with them cuffed behind my back, so I lift my chin up stubbornly. "Take it or leave it."
A small silence passes as the Lieutenant considers the deal. He continues to glare at me like I'm gum on his shoe but I'm long past the point of caring how much he hates me.
"I'll lift lockdown," he accepts finally.
I can't help the happiness that rushes through me as he confirms; it means we can go to Commons tomorrow!
"Even Knuckle?" I ask to be sure.
"Yes—everyone. Even that shit for brains. And you'd better fucking sing my praises to the Warden like your life depends on it. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."