Caged In (Caged Prison #1)

22

The warm water flowing over Izz’s skin is calming his nerves. A cleansing to wash away his sins. He prays it lasts, prays his guilt washes away alongside the water swirling down the drain. He shouldn’t hold guilt over what happened, what he was forced to do, to a bad person who wanted to do bad things to him.

But he does. The guilt is there and it’s a hard thing to live with. He wants it gone. He wants to go back to how he used to be, before he was caged up. He fears those days are long gone and he will never return to who he once was.

“Hello, Beautiful.” The hand on Izz’s back would have caused him to break out into an anxiety attack—and scream like a girl—if he hadn’t recognised the deep voice.

A soothing presence he welcomes with theoretical open arms. Sinn'ous is the only inmate aside from Reni and Zidie, and maybe Blake, who he trusts. He shouldn’t trust anyone in prison. But he can’t help it. He needs to hold someone close, needs the human connection. He will go crazy if he doesn’t have someone to talk to.

Izz watches Sinn'ous through the water’s flow as the male stalks around him and leans against the tiled wall. He needs to say something to open up to everything else he wants to get off his chest. But what?

Act normal. Be polite. Say anything —

“Ahh—hi.” Wow. Great work Izz. You nailed that one. He’s like a clueless teenager who has zero vocabulary.

Sinn'ous’s eyes run up and down Izz’s front. Making him squirm. Not from fear, rather a primal desire he refuses to look too closely at.

Izz had been secretly hoping the killer would come here. He’d tried not to think about how vulnerable he is in the showers. How alone he is—metaphorically speaking, as the showers are packed with inmates in his same mindset to get clean, only he trusts and knows none of them. And his experience last time . . . when he was without The Gang . . . He does not want another guard scenario transpiring in the prison showers. He doesn’t want to add to his guilt pool ‘shivved man in prison showers’.

“Heard you were looking for me,” Sinn'ous folds his arms over his broad chest, “you enjoy what I gifted you.”

How did Sinn'ous hear Izz was searching for him? Does he have eyes watching? Or is it more along the lines of him spotting Izz at his cell?

Should I ask, or let the subject drop? Do I really want to know?

He decides to let the subject drop. He doesn’t want to know, he has enough on his plate, he doesn’t need to add more to it.

“The cards were a Godsend, I was going stir crazy. But my cellmate’s a terrible cheat, so there was that.”

Sinn'ous’s eyes narrow ever so slightly at the remark. “He didn’t cheat you out of anything—”

“No, no. Nothing like that. We weren’t gambling with anything, just messing around.” Considering everyone else who’s done anything to Izz has been killed, he’s not about to say anything bad regarding his cellmate. He has zero proof Sinn'ous murdered all those inmates . . . It could be a coincidence . . . couldn’t it?

The inmates who attacked him in the corridor were killed and no one could figure out how or why. And there was Levis’s death after he was an asshole to Izz. If vomit-dragon tattoo—or is it a snake? It’s hard to tell what the tattoo is supposed to be—turns up dead with his slimy friend, Izz will be sure Sinn'ous had something to do with it. If he hadn’t killed them himself, then he hired someone to do it. He doubts Sinn'ous would hire someone to do the deed. It isn’t something serial killers do. Is it?

“Very well,” Sinn'ous relaxes against the wall, his scowl disappearing from his face.

“You going to shower too? Or just stand there staring at me.”

That earns him a devilish smirk from the male. Who deliberately runs his dark eyes down Izz’s body, making a show of it. Izz manages to suppress his own grin, turning his face up into the spray to keep it at bay. He doesn’t want others seeing him grinning at a serial killer, while naked in the showers. Not a reputation he wants.

“I missed my birthday,” Izz mutters, while deliberately not looking over at Sinn'ous. “I overheard some guards on my way here. They mentioned it’s the ninth today. I wish I could have seen my sister on my birthday. First one I’ve had since she was born where she hasn’t been with me.”

Why is he talking about this? To—arguably—a stranger .

He feels obliged to talk, and not stand in silence while showering next to the other. Izz also, kind of, maybe, wants Sinn'ous to know when his birthday is. He’s very aware how much of an idiot it makes him.

“When was it.”

“The sixth.” Izz peeks through the water’s clear flow, trying to catch a glimpse of how the other is reacting—without catching water droplets to the eyes.

“You’re what, twenty.”

Doesn’t particularly sound like a question. Does Sinn'ous already know? Search Izz’s criminal records or something? Sounds like he has been stalked. Should he be terrified, or ecstatic, that Sinn'ous wants to know him?

Perhaps the serial killer is doing their research on their next victim—

Stop . Izz fights off his invasive inner thoughts. His paranoia is not welcome here.

“Yes. How old are you?” Izz’s on a roll now with the information sharing so why stop.

“Twenty-eight,” Sinn'ous answers off-handedly, as if he doesn’t care, doesn’t understand why it’s important for Izz to know, but will indulge Izz anyway.

He’s not sure why he needs to know either. It isn’t really important. Especially considering he’s supposed to be staying away from the dangerous inmate. According to everyone else at least. Izz’s not sure about staying away from him. Isn’t sure the male is actually a threat.

The entire prison fears him . . .

“How long have you been here?”

Maybe Sinn'ous has lived here for years and years and that’s why the rest of the prison is terrified. Because Sinn'ous has built a reputation over the past decade, and rumours have been spread and changed. As it went with word-of-mouth stories, each person adding details or leaving things out, morphing and changing the stories until they become unrecognisable. Maybe Sinn'ous is misunderstood, the rumours faked because of the Satanic nature of his cell.

“Since last year.”

Well, there goes that theory right out the window.

“Oh, the way everyone acts I just assumed you’d been here for years.” Izz pushes his wet hair back off his face, annoyed it’s clinging to his skin.

I’d hoped you’d been here for years, that way I could justify hanging around you when everyone tells me, no.

Why does he trust this male as much as he does? Someone who can be in prison for such a short time and have the entire place cowering in the corner isn’t someone a sane person would stand comfortably next to—while naked.

“They’re terrified of you. Everyone told me to stay as far away from you as possible. And never be anywhere alone with you.”

Good to see I listened.

“And you failed to listen.”

“Oh, I listened. I just don’t think they’re right about you. You don’t seem so bad . . . Don’t seem like you’ve done the things they say you have.”

I hope.

Although. If Sinn'ous has, at least Izz’s protected with the male right next to him. That’s if said male doesn’t decide to kill him first.

“I’d never hurt you,” Sinn'ous states.

Sinn'ous isn’t answering the question, but Izz will take it. And ignore the unspoken confirmation on the killing part. Sinn'ous isn’t denying the murder accusations . . . innocent people tend to protest against it, when accused of murder.

Izz’s surprised how easy it is to talk to Sinn'ous, considering the other inmate is said to be a serial killer. Considering Izz’s naked, right alongside the male leaning casually against the tiled wall.

He finds it comforting. Showering with Sinn'ous watching over him. He knows he shouldn’t. How naive it is. However, his nerves are easing and his breathing calming. His body is telling him this male is trustworthy.

Can he allow himself to trust his instincts? Or are they flawed and broken with the traumas he’s suffered locked up in this cage? A cage in which he is powerless, where he will be stuck for years to come.

Slapping the shower off, he pads his way over the tiles to get dressed. Sinn'ous trailing behind, which boosted his confidence. He feels untouchable. Because no other inmate will come within a mile of Sinn'ous so they steer clear of Izz by proximity.

It’s a rush. If Izz was a king, this is how he’d feel. Untouchable. Unstoppable. Invincible. Immortal .

Izz hides his little secret smile by pulling his grey shirt over his head, composing himself before emerging from the neck hole. He will never get use to the scratchy materials of the prison clothing. Plastic sandpaper, rubbing his shower-kissed skin the wrong way. He longs for the day he can choose what he wears—

It also wouldn’t hurt to shower in a place that doesn’t smell like a dozen rats died in it.

Sinn'ous walks Izz back to his cell. It’s a silent stroll, with his imagination running away from him. Almost as if they are two people coming home from a date night. It’s a weird thought to have, but his forbidden emotions make him feel like a giddy teenager sneaking home, desperate not to be caught by disapproving parents. The parents in this instance being his cellmate and very loud best friend.

Back in Izz’s cell, he throws the towel onto his bunk to fix later. Turning to face Sinn'ous who is waiting, toeing the line between in and out of the cell. So close Izz could touch . . . if he leaned forward a fraction . . .

Swallowing down the strange impulse to touch Sinn'ous, Izz shuffles his feet anxiously. Attention anywhere but on the other’s face. He’s nervous and does a terrible job to pretend otherwise.

“I’m ah . . . going to skip breakfast tomorrow to shower again . . . if you wanted to . . . do this again.”

And there you have it. Izz has officially asked a serial killer out on a date—of sorts. If only his mum could see him now. She’d slap him, not that she’s ever done that. Seeing her son with a serial killer, she’d lose it. Probably faint. Die. Come back to life to slap him again.

Sinn'ous smiles, a little upturning of his lips. Which manages to flutter Izz’s heart—definitely feeling the teenage first crush vibes. Sinn'ous nods—a barely noticeable dip to the chin. But it happened, Izz had seen it.

Is that a yes?

Before he can demand a verbal confirmation the male glides back down the metal stairs and off into the prison below, swallowed up by the sea of inmates. Leaving Izz wondering if the encounter actually occurred.