Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way 2)

The smells, the noise, the guards and meal times meant I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours a night. My thoughts had warped and changed and wandered but they never, ever went the fuck away. Sometimes, they were reduced to simple things.

Food. They weren’t feeding me enough.

Shelter. I had a roof over my head, four dank walls, a shitter, and one-hour-a-day access to a window too small to see out of.

Survival. I was angrier than I’d ever been, but I’d have to check my temper going forward, or I’d end up back in here. I’d already bloodied my knuckles on a wall a few times reliving the days before I’d been herded here.

Sex.

I hadn’t fucked in over a year, and I was certain it was killing me from the inside out. I needed a raw, animalistic fuck, and the last person I’d touched and kissed and felt was Tiffany, so I’d fantasize about what I’d do to her if they let her in here for an hour. I’d take her from every angle, in every way a man could think of.

I’d jerk off and then the guilt would hit. Tiffany didn’t deserve to be treated like that, even in my head. When my heart stopped pounding and my thoughts had cleared, it was just Lake. Her spun-gold hair, eyes like fresh mountain water on a summer afternoon, light shining from within. My fantasies about her were different. Over and over, I thought about the moment I’d see her again. How it would feel to hug her, to smell her strawberry-scented hair again. Did she use the same shampoo she had back then? Would she dress the same, look the same?

Sometimes, out of nowhere, I tasted watermelon. I’d be in the middle of the most disgusting meal of my life and the watermelon had my mouth tingling. It made everything worse. I’d rather eat chalky meatloaf than be reminded of what I’d never have again. Nothing seemed to erase it. It was sweet, harmless, youthful.

When I got worked up over Ludwig and the injustice of being where I was, I didn’t commit, I’d lie on the cell floor like I had on the concrete deck of the camp pool and force stars onto the mottled ceiling. It was my most cherished memory, both when I’d done it with Maddy and later with Lake. I’d close my eyes and get back on the horse, Lake clutching me out of a childish yet grown-up fear. There was that awkward and wonderful kiss she’d pressed on the corner of my mouth, a nothing kiss, her mouth behind my ear, then near my lips for only a second and yet . . .

What if I’d just done it? Just taken her in the lake like she’d wanted to? In the truck? Maybe it wasn’t romantic, but I’d have been good to her. Gentle. I’d have gotten to know all the curves and lines of her body for a night. I’d have pushed her shorts down and eased into her, my rough hands greedy for her softness. I’d have taken the one thing I’d wanted more than anything else in years—Lake.

And I would think about that, my heart rate settling, eyes closed, my head back against the concrete. In my mind, I’d be in the truck with Lake in my arms, hands wandering over the silky, downy hair at the very top of her thigh. I’d open her shorts, kiss the peaks of her breasts, bury my cock in her until I’d spent myself to the point I could no longer get hard.

Her innocence and simplicity defied the chaos in my head . . .

I’d open my eyes to the four walls around me and realize I’d come again, thinking of Lake, like the fucking piece of shit I was for wanting to strip away more of her innocence than I already had. I would cry for her, for Maddy, for the monster I’d allowed to hurt my sister, for the monster I’d become. I’d never been or be anything else. It was in my blood. Thinking of Lake that way was wrong, but I’d done it, and not just once, and maybe I should’ve just fucking given in to her watermelon kisses. Then I’d be in here for a real reason and at least I would’ve had those moments of bliss in my life.

After breakfast, I drifted in and out of sleep until a guard opened the door, cuffs in hand. “Let’s go, inmate.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Fucking Bermuda. Don’t forget your bathing suit, motherfucker.”

Back in gen pop, Wills had moved to the bottom bunk and a man I didn’t recognize sat on a bed across from ours. I went to my locker. Most of my letters were there but not all. Anything I’d had from commissary was gone. I looked from Wills to the new guy. “Where’s my stuff?”