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"Shut the fuck up! I warned you—I told you to cooperate and by the looks of things, you're not listening. Big mistake."
His body is pressed against mine and my scalp is hurting from how hard he is pulling my hair. He finally lets go—just long enough to firmly grab my hips—and he bends me over the desk with force. His body is pushing into mine. I can barely breath with his weight on top of me and I'm now face down. The top of the desk is fogging up with my frantic breathing. I try to scramble free—maybe I
can wiggle out from under him, but this effort only makes him angry. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes hard, keeping his grip firm and pushing my head down.
"Stay still, doll—I mean it—I'm not fucking playing around."
He grabs my pants and yanks them down to my knees and he again presses his body into mine. I can feel his hard cock against my ass. I'm gripping the desk so hard that the blood seems to have left my hands and my knuckles are white. I feel him pulling down the band to his own pants and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can't believe this is happening. His body is grinding against mine. I go to scream, but it comes out as a squeak—feeble. It's like having a dream where you are being chased, and instead of having the ability to run, your body seems to move even slower, betraying you. I try to scream again and this time it comes out louder.
"I told you to—" he begins to say, and then stops. I feel his body move. He releases his grip and I can breath again. Now's my chance to try and run.
I hear a loud smack and he stumbles back.
"I should have finished you off back in the yard—should have really fucked you up and taught you a lesson!" a familiar voice growls.
I grab my pants, pulling them up frantically and I retreat to a far corner of the room because the door is now blocked by not one, but two men. I'm having a hard time coming to terms with what I'm seeing, but it's true.
It's Lucien.
I watch as he pulls his arm back—his tense muscles quivering, and connects his fist into the man's face with a sick-sounding crack. A thick stream of blood flows down his face and I watch as he spits a tooth onto the floor. The man tries to retaliate but Lucien blocks the punch and delivers two swift blows to his body and by the looks of it—if his ribs were fine before, they certainly aren't now. He's doubled over but Lucien is rage blind, and doesn't stop until three guard finally rush in. They are holding cans of mace and they waste no time spraying it at my attacker and Lucien. Both men stumble and blink back the burn, their eyes red and watering.
"Grab 'em!" one guard yells, and I watch as they are both handcuffed and dragged out of the room, a trail of blood following them out the door.
"Kerri! Kerri! Oh my god, what happened?" another guard asks, rushing to my side.
"I'm okay," I say. "I'm shaken, but I'm okay. I was assaulted—inmate Stone came to my aid."
"Let's get you checked," he says, but I shake my head.
"There's no need—honest. I just want to go home."
The residual fumes from the mace are still hanging in the air and my eyes begin to water. It looks like I'm crying but it's from the intense, lingering burn. I wipe them with shirtsleeve and as I do this, I look at the ground and I see something blue out of the corner of my eye—my journal. How did it get on the ground? I know it wasn't there earlier. I rush over and scoop it up, quickly thumbing through the pages to see if everything is still intact and my eyes land on a page. I see marks that are clearly not mine. In thick pencil, two words have been circled over and over—The Alcove.
And then I remember Lucien. He must've had my journal. These marks have to be from him. If he hadn't have walked in—no, my mind can't follow that thought any further and I shudder. I don't know what would've happened if he wouldn't have been here, and I don't want to know.
I owe my life to him.
Lucien
This time doesn't feel so bad. I mean, it's solitary, which mean it isn't fun, but at least this time I'm in here for a good reason. I was trying to return Kerri's journal, and good fucking thing I decided to grow a conscience. I couldn't keep that book of hers any more. That woman is like a fucking saint. Kerri. God she's too good for this place. What timing, right? I'm glad I was there to kick his ass. I couldn't let that fat bastard get away with attacking her—or worse. I'd do it all over again.
I'm sitting with my back against the door when I hear the lock unlatching and a guard walks in. I turn around to get a good look at him. From the look on his face, he's all business.
"On your feet Stone. It's time for your exam."
I do as I'm instructed and I stand up. I grimace a bit, but suck it back. I landed on my ankle wrong in yesterday's fight, and I think it’s a bad sprain. I've had this before. I hobble over to the guard with a pronounced limp and he places the handcuffs around my wrists.
"What do you think I'm going to do?" I ask. "You think I'm gonna run or put up a fight with this ankle?"
"This is protocol Stone. Save your questions and come with me."
We walk out of the cell and down the hall, and continue walking. I look at the other cell doors and wonder how many people are currently being held in solitary. We walk until we reach the infirmary. I sit in a plastic chair to take the weight off of my ankle. It feels good to be off it. It was a bigger pain in the ass getting here than I thought it'd be. And then, a few moments later, I see her in the doorway. Her hair is alight with the sun from the window and her breasts are firm and I can't stop looking at them. I tell myself to look at her face and not her tits, but I can't help it. I immediately want to reach out and touch her—to touch that red halo of hers. To let her know that she's made me want to be a better man.
"Come on in and have a seat," she says, motioning toward the room.
I walk into the exam room and I notice that she is giving me a soft smile and it's taking everything I've got to not touch her and tell her what's on my mind. I want to kiss her and breathe in her scent.
"Go head and lie back for me," she says, patting the table, and the guard takes my handcuffs off so that I can lie back. The guard then steps outside of the room and we find ourselves alone. She asks me if anything is hurt and I tell her about my ankle. I'm also careful to say that I don't think it's anything serious, but she says she wants to take a look anyways.
