The Last Handful of Clover - Book 1: The Hereafter

1.50 A Prison Within A Prison

He felt his stomach turn over again, as he remembered the violation. Because it wasn't just his mind Justin had wanted. It wanted his body. It wanted to touch and invade and use and possess every part of him.

He felt as if he might vomit a third time, remembering that hand stroking over his chest, and then down, into his pants. It was his own hand, but it also wasn't. Having a hand, a real hand, seemed intoxicating to Justin, and he had used it for all it was worth.

The realization made others come to him, like dominoes.

He used my hand because he doesn't have one of his own. He doesn't even have a body, and he must not have had one for a long time. He was intoxicated by the feeling of flesh, and the sensations that came along with it. Breathing, blinking... Coming. Everything a being without a body would miss.

Did that make Justin... a ghost?

Howard looked up, and Carla Grayson was standing outside his cell.

Oh god, not now...

He turned from her, hoping she would just walk away. But the guard was already unlocking the cell door, and she was walking in. Looking down, he saw the wet stain in his lap, and quickly pulled the thin blanket they gave him over his crotch to hide it.

"Hello, Howard," Grayson said, sitting on the stool she brought in with her. "How are you today?"

Her voice was calm and motherly, as it always was. He knew he shouldn't trust this woman. But he still found her presence soothing.

"I'm fine, ma'am," He said, avoiding her eyes. "And how are you?" Howard winced at the sound of his own voice. Why would he still be aping all those rules of politeness? Even here, in this shit hole?

Grayson was silent for a long time, and finally, Howard looked up at her. She had concern written across her face, and she looked directly into his eyes. But it surprised him to see as much weariness in her face as she likely saw in his.

"When is the last time you slept?" he asked the woman, surprised at his own audacity.

She managed a sad smile and toyed with the folder on her lap. It was a thin folder, and Howard could see his own name written on the tab. "Do I look that bad?" she asked. And without waiting for a reply, she said, "I supposed I do. I pulled an all-nighter last night, so I'm going on thirty-six hours with no proper sleep. In fact, I probably shouldn't be here."

Howard looked at her quizzically, already feeling his anxiety draining in her presence. She looked so human today, like she had been through things she couldn't speak about. Just as he had. Strangely, that felt like a bond between them.

"Why?" Howard asked. "Why shouldn't you be here?"

"Well, Howard, I'm afraid that I've been pulled from your case. At least temporarily. Did you hear about Valley Fair Mall?"

"No, I haven't."

"Hmm. Just as well, probably. You've got other things to worry about. But there was a mass murder there yesterday. West Valley has asked me to assist, so I may not be back here for a while."

Howard could see the pain in her face. He didn't ask for details about the incident, but he knew it must have been bad.

Returning her gaze to the folder on her lap, she held it up for him to see. "You might remember I promised to let you know when we got your psychological evaluation back. It arrived in my office about an hour ago, and I wanted to let you know."

"What does it say?" Howard asked, although he felt that he probably already knew.

Rather than just telling him, Grayson put the folder back in her lap. "You know, you don't have to talk to me today. We can wait to go over this with your lawyer present, if you'd like. I heard you finally got a public defender. Has he come by?"