* * *
The next morning, I went into our games room, feeling lighter than I had done for a long time. The other four were all there, lounging around, and from the looks on their faces, they’d been waiting for me.
“You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” Colton joked. “Who did you slay last night to achieve that level of happiness?”
“None of your fucking business,” I spat back, and the others grinned to themselves.
“We’ve had word from Jake Colt in prison,” Devon piped up. “He’s ready to do whatever work you want on Cheslin. What exactly is it that you want him to do?”
I smiled to myself. This day was just getting better and better.
“I want to fucking mess with his head,” I answered. “I’m gonna get Jake to tattoo the words ‘Rapist’ on him.”
“Ooo, where? On his forehead? Or better yet, on his cock and balls?” Colton asked excitedly.
“How could it be on his cock and his balls?” Tyler asked, shaking his head in exasperation at Colton.
“We could give him a choice. Maybe spread the letters out a little?” Colton added, pointing to his own crotch as if he was demonstrating the logistics.
“No choices,” I stated. “He gets it somewhere visible. I’ll let Jake choose where. He’s the one that’s got to pin him down and do it. There’ll be none of the usual hygiene either. I want him to make it as painful as possible.”
“Is he gonna use a rusty knife to do it?” Colton asked.
“I couldn’t give a fuck if he uses a teaspoon. The more pain the better,” I replied.
I saw the soldier’s mobile sitting on the side by the kettle, so I went over and flicked the switch to make a brew then picked up the phone to send the message to Cheslin. Part one of his game was about to start.
I’m glad you finally saw sense and agreed to comply with our game, Mr Cheslin. Your first task is a simple one. There is a friend of ours in Belbroughton, Jake Colt. Your task is to go and see him today. He has a special gift that he wants to give you, courtesy of the soldiers of anarchy.
We shall await confirmation from Jake that the task was completed to his–and our–satisfaction. If you succeed, you live to play another game. Fail, and we will ensure that you never see the light of day from the nonces’ maximum-security wing we get you sent to. Solitary will be a dream you will aspire to after a few hours on there. But hours won’t be enough. It’ll be months, years that you’ll be stuck there. So think hard, Mr Cheslin. How are you going to play this hand?
We’ll be in touch.
The Soldiers.
The kettle switch flipped off, letting me know it had boiled, and I put the phone down and got busy making a cup of coffee.
“Anyone else want one?” I asked, and the stares I received back made me ask, “What?”
“You never make the coffee,” Devon replied.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you got lucky last night.” Colton smirked at me.
“I did.” I turned my back on them so they couldn’t see my smile, thinking about my Olivia and the fact that I was going to get the chance to see her and really be with her on Saturday. “But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever tell you about it.”