Where Angels Die 🌈 ✔

2 - Hungry Wolves

That night, Rick didn't sleep for a minute. The words of his cellmate kept racing through his head. Had the man just wanted to scare him? He knew there were criminals living here, but they wanted to turn their lives around, right? Their punishment would be worsened if they continued their criminal activities here, if they even raped other people, right? Or did nobody care? Was he stripped of every human right? 

Rolling on his other side, he stared at the stone wall. He felt cold. He felt lonely. His bottom lip started to quiver again. He didn't understand how Wyatt could do this to him. He had always been obedient. He had done everything in his power to please his master and Wyatt had always taken care of him. Why did he tell the police that the illegal guns under the floor belonged to him? Wyatt didn't really believe that, right? Rick wouldn't even dare to touch a gun. Did Wyatt know the weapons had been there? He had even wondered if Wyatt had been the one storing the guns, blaming Rick for it. But that couldn't be true, right? He had always been a good boy, why would Wyatt want to send him to prison? His stomach hurt. He had always believed the twenty-year older man was protecting him, but now it felt like the man had thrown him for the wolves. Very hungry wolves. A tear slipped down his cheek. He pressed his fist against his quivering lips, trying to smother his sobs. He didn't want his cellmate to hear it, let alone anyone else. He hadn't forgotten about the warning; that his tears would only attract mean people.

. . .

Rick felt exhausted and nervous when he put on his clothes the next morning and shuffled towards the dining hall. Quietly, he sat down next to his cellmate. The man didn't speak a single word to him, but he neither send him away. Rick stirred the porridge, taking little bites while he tried to ignore the scorching looks that were burning on his skin. Skittishly, he looked up now and then. There was a huge black man who licked his lips, and another man sent him a wink. 

"Don't make eye contact," he heard close to his ear. 

His cellmate emptied his glass of milk, got up and left the dining room. Rick left half of his porridge behind and quickly followed him; he didn't dare to stay behind on his own. 

A little insecure he sauntered behind the man. He had told Rick he didn't want to protect him, but if other inmates thought that he was protecting him, they might leave him alone. Through different hallways, he followed the other convict until they stepped outside. There was a quad with baskets.

Eagerly, Rick inhaled the fresh air; it felt like he had been locked up for months. His cellmate sat down on a bench and stared forward. Rick hesitated. Would he allow Rick to sit down next to him? Maybe he hadn't a lot of friends either. He appeared to be a loner. 

Very slowly Rick sat down on the other end of the wooden bench. The other was still ignoring him, but he didn't let it discourage him. He had a feeling this man was still his best chance to survive around here. They clearly left him alone. Or did they leave him alone because of the crime he had committed? He might be a serial killer!

There was a pit in his stomach. "Why — why are you in jail?"

The man didn't even look aside. 

Rick wobbled with his feet. Hadn't he heard him? He cleared his throat. 

Before he could repeat his question, the man got up and walked back inside. Rick hesitated for a moment, then he quickly followed him. He was barely inside when the convict grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. 

"Stop following me like a lost puppy," he grumbled. 

"I uh — I only wanted to ask you where I can find the offices. I — I have an appointment."