Threat

 Just as he said he would, Schneider escorted me back to my cell once I put on clothes and left right after, his lackey hurrying behind him. Apparently he had business to see to, some sort of incident that kept repeating. I listened to the sound of his receding footfalls against the metal catwalk until it was quiet again. 

The inmates were still having breakfast in the cafeteria; all the cells we’d passed on the way back were still empty, but probably not for long. 

The thought of breakfast caused my stomach to rumble. Suddenly, my desire for privacy in the showers over eating breakfast didn’t seem like such a good idea after all. 

Well, I couldn’t have it all, could I?

I turned around and instantly spotted the tray on top of the desk. As soon as my eyes registered the contents of the tray, my nose followed and hunger blossomed in my gut anew. It looked and smelled like breakfast. My feet moved on their own, carrying me to the potential meal like a man bewitched. A generous portion of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese filled the biggest section of the tray, while the other two were filled with fried beef sausages and steamed carrots and broccoli in one section, and red beans garnished with thyme in the other section. There were also two juice boxes, one apple and the other orange, and a bottle of water. A traditional English breakfast, and it looked absolutely delicious. Like five-star hotel-quality delicious.

I very much doubted the inmates received the same quality of food, in the same way I doubted it ever got delivered to their cells. This was one of the benefits of being under the King’s protection, it seemed. I was certain that Schneider had something to do with this. But where did Schneider get food like this in a maximum-security prison? Don’t tell me he kept a chef just for his culinary pleasure. 

From what I knew of him so far, it didn’t seem like it was far from the realm of possibility. He looked like a man who appreciated and held on to all the little pleasures in life, refusing to sacrifice even one no matter if he was in prison. And truth be told, if I were powerful and rich enough to bend the laws of prison to my whims to make life here a little bearable, I just might. 

Either way, I was thankful for his kindness. I’d be sure to thank him in person when I saw him next. 

Mouth salivating at the prospect of good, clean food, I pulled back the chair and plopped into it. I picked up the wooden fork and stabbed a sausage, shoving it into my mouth, whole.

Happily, I made quick work of the tray of food, choking on sausages only twice. 

I decided to lay down after the hearty meal, sucking on the last juice box. 

As I stared at the underside of the upper bunk’s mattress, my mind wandered to places it should really keep away from. I recalled with vivid clarity the look on Schneider’s face as he’d trapped me in the shower stall, and how my own body had reacted to it. Even as I drank from the juice, my throat felt strangely dry and the rest of me felt… hot. As hot as the fire burning in Schneider’s eyes. 

What are you doing? Stop thinking and wondering about it! 

I decided to follow the voice of reason this one time. I would take a nap since I had nothing else to do; it was the only way to keep my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t. 

I crushed the juice box in my hand and tossed it into the bin, then slipped under the covers and closed my eyes.

Never before did I miss my alarm clock so much; how would I time my sleep from now on? Then again, what would I ever have to wake up to in prison? 

****

A loud tapping noise woke me less than ten minutes into my nap. I opened my eyes and looked at the cell’s door where the noise was coming from. 

A guard stood right outside my cell, tapping his baton against the bars. The sound echoed across the still empty prison block with every tap. 

I was instantly on high alert. I sat up, careful not to slam my head against the upper bunk’s underside this time, and immediately demanded, “What do you want?” I was inwardly impressed that my voice didn’t tremble the way my insides did. Fear had gripped me the moment I saw the man in the uniform. 

Unfazed by my straightforwardness, the guard said, “Aren’t you going to ask who I am first?”

That was strange. I looked him up and down, taking him in. He was about my age and as tall as I was, with reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. His eyes were so dark, they practically looked black in the prison’s dim lights. Freckles dotted his cheeks under his eyes. His thin mouth curved into a smile when I didn’t ask who he was like he expected. 

My eyes narrowed at him skeptically. 

I doubted he was a friend. The guards had made it perfectly clear that I was enemy number one to them, and that they’d pay me back tenfold for Kevin’s death.

I eyed the baton with wariness. 

God, if the door slid open for him… 

“You’ll find out who I am soon enough. And then you’ll be sorry.” The guard promised with a dark glint in his eyes when I refrained from asking questions, and then he slid his baton back into its black leather holster and walked away and out of sight, just like that.

I was tempted to get up and go to the door just to see where he was going, as if that would be the clue I needed to find out who he was. 

This guy sought me out and practically threatened me despite Schneider making it clear I was under his protection and that I was off limits. Did he not fear Schneider like the rest of the guards? If so, a man so reckless and unafraid by the promise of retribution from Schneider was dangerous. And it seemed he’d taken Kevin’s death to heart, more so than the other guards who backed off, vowing vengeance upon me for whatever reason. Worse, he wanted me to know he was after me, knowing that I’d relay the incident to Schneider. 

I would tell Schneider about him. I’d see if he knew who this guard was. 

My relief at being granted protection from the King of the Prison himself was short-lived, it seemed. I should have known it wouldn’t solve all my problems. It seemed I’d never be at peace, or at least left alone to spend my sentence. 

All the sleep had evaporated from my eyes. For a long time, I watched the cell door until the inmates started returning to their cells.