No Strings Attached | ✔

XXIV. Visiting

        What Jonah said to me in the hospital turned into reality. The second I was released from that boring hell I was hand-cuffed and shoved into a police car, being driven all the way to the jail I'll probably be spending the rest of my life in. Just imagine all the shit that lies ahead of me right now. Trials, scathing comments, fruits being thrown at me until I have a concussion, that sorta thing. I'll maybe even be sentenced to death because everyone thinks the mafia is just that bad.

        I mean--it is, but really? Death sentencing for this?

        The cops checked every bit of my body to see if I had anything such as drugs or maybe even weapons (if one could be so daring) hidden inside an orifice. They then demanded I change into this ugly orange uniform, worn out and stretched thanks to the previous person who wore this.

        Today is my second day in this hell, and so far so bad. I already provoked, like, three guys in the span of twenty-four hours just because I didn't take their shit and tried to get along. Thanks to those life-saving pricks us prisoners call guards, however, they had watched every quarrel and were quick to step in and protect my ass, breaking the argument up before either one of us could throw a punch.

        But despite their protection from the big boys, they weren't able to protect me from what's happening right now.

        I had been taken from my cell and down to a visiting room, the ones with the telephones and glass in between the visitor and the prisoner. I don't know what it's called exactly but honestly I could care less.

        When I was seated, I didn't acknowledge who was in front of me. I just sat down awkwardly and cursed when I hit my forearm on the edge of the desk, pulling my limb close instinctively and rubbing the spot I was hit on. I sucked my teeth and cursed some more before I finally glanced up from my arm, seeing Jonah on the other side.

        And here were are now.

        My jaw clenches tight, and I drop my throbbing arm in my lap, rubbing it against my pants as discreetly as possible.

        Jonah eyes me for a long time, falsely making me believe that he still cares for my wellbeing. He shouldn't, honestly. I've done so much wrong in his face and behind his back, yet he was set on loving me. I feel my stomach churn uncomfortably.

        He picks up the telephone on the side, putting it to his ear. I do the same with quick and nervous hands, clutching the thing tight as I press it deep against my face.

        Despite the phones being here for the sole purpose of talking, Jonah doesn't say anything and neither do I. What can I say? Do I just be casual and say "Hey"? Make him believe I think this is all a joke? Or do I clear my throat and get right down to business, twisting the tension further to the point where it makes you want to belch?

        "How's jail?" Jonah's voice suddenly mumbles it's way into my ear, soft and tentative. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I can hear concern somewhere in there too.

        "Chaotic." I admit, hesitantly placing my arm on the table before me. I lean forward and tilt my head down, focusing on the glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

        Nothing else is said. Until--

        "You've hidden from me all this time."

        Internally, I begin to hyperventilate. I almost have no courage to look back up and drink in any part of Jonah at all. I can't find it in me to gawk at his body or at his face or at his gentle personality. I can't scream excitedly over anything about him.

        But still, I have the will to look right into his eyes with mine, and to me that's the hardest part you can ever do. Face your fears.

        "I'm sorry." I mutter pathetically. "I've been meaning to tell you--really I have-- but I just . . . I knew it would ruin us, and I didn't want that. What we had was . . . a great thing."

        Jonah sniffs, leaning back in his seat. "Not really all the great when the man I loved was a man who blatantly lied right in my face."

        I cringe and tear my gaze from Jonah, no longer able to stand the sight of his utter disappointment and hurt.

        " . . . If I told you, you would've killed me, you know." I say after a while.

        "You know, maybe I would've." Jonah confirms solidly. "I knew you were a bad decision right at the start. I even said that to you, for Christ's sake!" He says breathlessly, throwing an arm up with anger.

        I can't even keep up with my tongue as I splutter, "But you still took your chances, didn't you?"

        By now, we're again staring at each other, Jonah's eyes narrowed with irritation and mine trying to cover up my surprise.

        I shake my head after a time and sigh heavily, licking the inside of my cheek before saying, "Listen, Jonah . . . I love you, okay?" I see his shoulders jolt the tiniest bit. "Despite all the lies I've told to you, this one thing is something I'd never lie about.

        "For as long as I'm stuck here . . . for as long as we stay broken up--keep that in mind always. Okay?"

        Jonah shifts in his seat stiffly. "I--"

        "Time's up." The female guard says behind me.