Pyro

Chapter 27

Sleeping, or attempting to sleep, was fruitless. All I could do was stare at the ceiling, obscured by darkness, unable to sleep because of the prisoners. Some softly snored, while others jerked in their sleep, and ones that were awake whispered quietly to each other, earning repeated reprimands from the patrolling guards.

The next day the guards roused the irritated prisoners for a shower. A shrill beep reverberated the prison and the cell doors groaned before swinging open. Prisoners emerged from their cells, grumbling and bemoaning the ungodly morning hours, and exchanging insults to use for the guards.

I wondered if I'd be assigned a tour guard/guide or something. I was new here, after all. I didn't know all the wonders SS prison had to offer.

But no one came. Ironically, that was the story of my life.

Except, Rebecca and Wais and everyone else that broke that pattern...

I missed Rebecca, and maybe even the others. Maybe even Kaz.

I shivered. That thought was more terrifying than facing life in prison.

Utterly drained and exhausted, I yawned and stumbled out of my cell, joining the shuffling prisoners. Some stopped to look at me but the guards barking orders forced them to hurry it up. One of the prisoners blustered, "That's what your mom said last night," earning a kick to the back and a warning. The nearby prisoners snickered and commemorated their friend, who exaggerated the pain to his back, moaning that he'd sue the prison for assault and battery.

I was surprised a prisoner had those words in their vocabulary, let alone knew what they meant.

The guards herded us to the shower changing rooms. I refused to shower here, and I was still relatively clean: my skin and nails could use a scrubbing, plus my hair was beyond matted, but not enough to warrant a revolting public shower. So the guards kept their eyes trained on me as I lingered outside the changing room, refusing to enter. Through the open door I heard the rustle of clothing being shed and laughter that dissipated as most of the men headed for the shower rooms.

I can't believe I'm stuck in this place, I thought, repulsed. Well, at least until I, or Wais and everyone else, broke me out. Like hell I was staying here.

The other men, also opting not to shower, hovered near me, eyes trained on the floor, refusing to look at the guards. Rather, some gazed directly at me. Their faces were scrunched, as if trying to memorize me.

One of the men sidled up to me. "So you're Pyro," he commented.

I blinked. The guy was tattooed head to toe, black ink winding around art of ornate flowers and names, and just under the neck of his jumpsuit I made out the top of a skull. A chill crawled over my skin.

"The one and only," I replied, crossing my arms, but refusing to inch away. The guy sized me up, trying to deduce what lied underneath my jumpsuit: scrawny arms or burly muscle to be wary of. I wasn't Parker, but I wasn't Kaz either. "You want something?"

The man, a hair shorter than me, laughed. The guard's attention snapped to him, but he didn't care. After a moment, his laughter simmered and he said, "Nah man. Just heard about you is all. You're kind of a legend here, as basically everywhere."

"Thanks, didn't know that."

The guy grinned. "I just mean, like, you're a kid and you've got an impressive reputation. The guys in here'll never admit it, but they like you."

I frowned. I half wanted to ask "If those guys will never admit they like me, then why are you?" but the more pertinent question I had was: "'Like' me?"