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Anger flashes for just a moment as if he really thought I would just hand that shit over, and then it’s gone. He replaces it with a smile as he looks around the cafeteria as if he’s not bothered at all. “Listen, asshole, you can give it to me, or I can take it from you.”
A slow smile spread across my face as I stand. “I’ll tell you what,asshole. You can try to take it from me, and we’ll go from there.” My brow arches, a clear challenge. “Go for it. You’re a badass, right?”
His eyes go wide, and then comes the indecision. He’s not sure if I’m all talk and just going to just let him take it from me, or if he’s about to get himself into a week’s worth of pain. He takes just long enough that I know I’ve won the fight before the first punch is thrown. He doesn’twantto fight, but like a fucking idiot, he chose one of the biggest, strongest inmates he could find.
Me.
I smile when he leans in to snatch the fruit cup, grabbing his wrist with one hand and slamming it on the table while I pound into his face with my right. The table clears immediately. The others have a sense of self-preservation greater than their hunger.Good for them.
It feels good to pound this asshole’s face. I’ve always hated bullies, and I decide to make him pay. “Still hungry, motherfucker?”
He grunts, pulling his arm and trying to free it, but my grip is tight, and my thumb presses into the veins on his inner wrist.
“Yeah, bitch!” The words follow a grunt, and he surprises me with a glancing jab to my jaw.
I stumble back, but only for a moment before jumping over the table, pushing him to the ground with a loud roar to let him know he fucked up.
“Stupid son of a bitch.” I land with my knees on his chest, sliding them wide so they dig into his biceps. I ignore his roar of pain and let my fist loose on his face. Left, right. Right, left. Over and over, my fists land blow after blow to his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, hell, even his forehead.
I’m angry. No, fuck that, I’m furious. This is the last fucking place on earth I want to be, and then this sorry motherfucker comes up on me.
I slam my fists into his face because I can’t stop, and since this asshole made his face my business, I keep it up until my fists are coated in blood.
My face is splattered with the warmth of his blood even as he bucks his hips, trying to get me off him. I smile.
“You should’ve thought about this before you got in my fucking face.” I punch him again, straight on, a simple jab that breaks his nose in a satisfying crunch. His head snaps back, and he sags against the floor, but I’m not done with him, not by a long shot.
I lean forward and pull back my fist, ready to uncoil once again, but there’s resistance, and I try again. Nothing. Finally, I look over my shoulder and see one guard grab my right arm and another grabs my left.Shit.This ain’t good. It won’t matter that this fucker started it, not one fucking bit.
That’s why the system is so fucked up. They don’t do shit to stop the violence. If you stand up for yourself to protect yourself, you risk a longer fucking sentence. I go slack and let the guards pull me backward because the last thing I want is for these fuckers to start beating the fuck out of me. I plan to get out of here in one piece.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
Shit. Will I even get the fuck out of here after this?
Two more guards help up the dude with the bloody fucking face, and he takes advantage of their loose grip and lunges forward. I see it coming from a mile away, but I only have a few seconds to choose. Tense up and let the guards think I’m fighting them or take it.
Fuck that, I’ll never take that shit.
My lips pull into a straight line, and I exhale, tensing my core muscles as my right leg pulls back at a ninety-degree angle. As soon as he leans forward, telegraphing the punch he thinks he’s about to land, I flex my foot and push forward straight into his already bleeding nose.
“Ow!” Motherfucker wails like a baby as he falls back and right into the arms of two slightly amused guards.
“You done?” One of the guards leans forward, a small smile he can’t hide on his face.
I nod. “Done.” They try to drag me away, but I probably weigh more than both of those scrawny fuckers put together. Then they stop and make me get to my feet. I look over my shoulder one last time, giving my attacker a wink and a smile.
“You’re a dead man.” He mouths the words to me. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that threat, but I can’t say that I’m not concerned about it this time. I’m a strong son of a bitch, without a doubt, but I’m also in here without any backup and alone. I can only do so much.
I know where I’m going, and up there, I’ll have plenty of time to think up a plan.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Sophie
I wake up feeling as sick as a dog and have no idea why. I mean, I haven’t done anything in weeks. I haven’t gone out since my girl’s night out with Josie. I haven’t had sex since Tank, but I feel as if I’ve picked up a bug somewhere, and it’s knocking me on my ass.
