Caged In (Caged Prison #1)

26

Izz’s late for work. He’d lost track of time, the hours having passed in a blur while he was with Sinn'ous. He’d missed lunch and almost completely forgotten about his assigned job.

Sinn'ous said Izz could stay in the cell with him but Izz declined, stating he should get to the laundry room or the guards will get pissy. He remembers all the trouble it caused missing his shifts in the kitchen. The lifetime ago when he worked there. His prison stay is going to feel like a million years before he is released. Already it feels as if he has been in here for a solid year.

How can it be only twenty-eight days? Too much has transpired in too little time.

He’s regretting saying no. He should have stayed in the cell. And damn the consequences. Sinn'ous is able to arrange for things to happen or not happen. Maybe he can get him out of working in the laundry. Probably not, but here’s to hoping—Izz mock salutes a beer glass in his mind. Snickering like a crazy person to himself.

I’m already going mad in here.

Going? More like gone. His mind is gone, his body is trapped in a cage. On the plus side . . . he may, possibly, perhaps, have an itty-bitty crush. Not that he is catching feelings or anything for a serial killer.

Nooooo, that would be crazy.

He is in his own head, his own little happy bubble. He isn’t stupid though, he can feel the inmates in the laundry room watching him. Constantly sneaking glances at him, whispering about him. He’s sure they know he’s become close to Sinn'ous. This place is gossip central, you can’t scratch your ass without someone—from a different Wing, you’ve never met—hearing about it.

His hip is not helping. It’s itchy and irritating. He’d removed the patch to let it air out and heal quicker—not healing fast enough for his liking. Is a stinging reminder of how correct everyone is. He does belong to Sinn'ous —who’d had an uncanny twinkle in those black eyes as he watched Izz clean the tattoo before heading to the laundry room.

I wonder what he was thinking?

Izz rests a hand over his hip, gently cupping the fresh tattoo hidden under his shirt. It’s a comfort for him. Knowing he is protected. If anyone tries anything with him, he can play the protection card. No one will dare cross Sinn'ous.

Izz hasn’t been here long, doesn’t know much about the ways of prison life, yet even he can see how much they all fear Sinn’ous. How they step on eggshells around the red and black mohawked male.

Hefting a bundle of sheets, Izz stuffs the load into a machine. Clicking the dials to start the washing process. Listening to the steady flow as water fills its belly, drowning the dirty sheets in fresh liquids. Dry prison blankets becoming a soggy soapy mess, churning and spinning their way to cleanliness.

His ears perk up, his subconscious sensing he is the topic of conversation for inmates hidden behind the stacked machines. They can’t see him but he can hear what they’re saying.Unknowing that he is listening in—or not caring. As they discuss bets on how long he is going to last. Talking about Sinn'ous’s new plaything not living to the end of the week before he’s found gutted in a back corner. Or shivved in the showers. Strung up and suffocated—

He turns away, scurrying off to machines further away, so he doesn’t have to listen to their gruesome descriptions of how he’s going to die . . .

He wants to stay in his happy love-struck cloud, but his surroundings are threatening to dampen it and disperse his newfound happiness. His mood is close to plunging into despair at the other inmates discussing his murder, as if his life is nothing to them other than a chance to have fun on the side taking bets.

Apparently the universe doesn’t want to give Izz a break. He can now hear the hushed voices of The Gang. Voices he easily recognises.

“He’s got a frickin’ serial killer around us now,” David’s voice drifts from behind a machine. Anger laced through it.

Izz’s not sure he’s ever heard David’s voice without anger in it. Perhaps the man doesn’t have any other settings, anger being the only one.

He’s sick of it, sick of David and his attitude and hate—before Izz can talk himself out of it, his mouth is opening at the machines in front of him, the ones hiding The Gang from his view.

“Well,” Izz growls, loud enough to be heard from the other side, narrowing his eyes at the inanimate objects, “I would think you’d be grateful. ‘Cause now you don’t have to worry about ‘ protecting ’ me. Or ‘gangs’ targeting you for it. Or ‘going to The Hole to save his ass, ‘cause he couldn’t fight to save his life’. ” Izz makes a bad mockery of David’s voice to emphasise the wording David used in the corridor all those weeks ago. After Zidie and Reni were carted off to The Hole.

A burst of laughter erupts from behind the machines, Isco’s voice booming out. In no way trying to quieten his reaction, or prevent anyone overhearing him, “I knew there was a reason you pissed off out of The Gang when Reni was in The Hole. You heard big mouth here. Didn’t you?” Not a question, the answer is obvious.

Izz marches around the machines, with a scowl on his face, directing it at David. He’s in time to see Isco elbow David in the side, a smile on his scarred face, “told you Izz wasn’t someone you would have to worry about. The guys been here what? A day. And he’s already got himself protection from the most feared fucker in this shit hole. Maybe you should be the one on your knees for him, eh, Davy.”

David scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “he hasn’t got protection. Sinn'ous is keeping him around as a plaything—”

There’s that word again, Izz officially hates the terminology.

“—until he gets bored and kills him. Then we’re going to be a target ‘cause we’ve got Izz in our group. That serial killer’s going to be watching Izz who has turned the rest of us into a target for the ‘most feared fucker in this shit hole’. Ain’t nothing to celebrate about that—” David mimics Isco’s description of Sinn'ous, and it rubs Izz the wrong way.

Izz’s sick of this piece of shit thinking he’s better than him. Why? Why is high-and-mighty David so up himself?

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?” Izz snaps at David, throwing his distaste into his tone, “I’ve only ever been nice to you and everyone in here, and all you do is make shit up, bite my head off with your negative nancy crap. And mock me. Like I’m some child who’s not in prison with the rest of you assholes. Serving my time and trying to survive. You people have made me a target and act like you’re better than me. Newsflash, you’re in prison just the same as all of us. Like me. Like him,” Izz jabs a finger at Isco, “like everyone in here. You’re not special and you’re not better than me. We’re stuck in the same fucking place. The same cage that society—and circumstances—put us in.”

Izz storms off, to find an empty machine away from David and his negative energy. That’s it, he’s done with them. Done with this whole day. He should have stayed in the Satanic cell with Sinn'ous.

He has no idea why David’s been such a prick to him. But there you have it. Izz knows who the asshole in the group is—

He throws his arms around a pile of clothing, bear hugging the scratchy cheap material towards a machine. Strangling the life out of the innocent prison greys in his hand. Stuffing them into a machine in the far corner. Away from the other inmates in the laundry room. He came in here with a full heart, happier than he’s been in a long time, and David effectively killed it. Slaughtered it. Murdered it with no hesitation.

Who’s the killer now, you pompous ass —

Izz’s done. His emotions are surging, his anger seething. He no longer cares about the guards and potentially getting stuck in The Hole.

Slamming the washer’s door closed, he holds his head high as he storms to the laundry room exit.

He’s done. He’s not in the mood for work, doesn’t want to be in the same room as David. Or any of the other inmates. Not even Reni or Zidie—who thankfully haven’t bothered him so far. He’s done with the lot of them. He should have listened to Sinn'ous and stayed in the male’s cell.

He’s rectifying the mistake now.

“Hey, where are you going?” Reni’s voice calls out to Izz from somewhere behind him but he doesn’t stop, or look back.

He ignores his cellmate, continuing to the only way in or out of this room. To the guard taking up space beside it.

The guard straightens up, opening their mouth to say something—

He is not having it. He is done with the guards’ shit too. Pulling up his shirt, he exposes the mark—Sinn'ous’s branding. He doesn’t falter at the door, continuing his storm out, slamming open the double doors. Exiting the laundry room like an unhappy bullet shooting out of its barrel.

I’m done with this whole fucking place .