Your mother is too busy to love you.

  And too busy doing what, by the way? Busy being a whore??

  Anyway, the point is that it became clear to me in that moment that if my own parents didn’t love me, what chance was there that anyone else ever would? There was a reason they couldn’t stand being around me… Something that made them despise me, and whatever it was, it would sure as shit make other people hate me too.

  And so that was it. The lying, cheating and stealing, the shrinks diagnosing me with everything under the sun, stuffing me with medications that only fed my need to inflict physical pain on myself and emotional pain on others… It became who I am. It is who I am.

  Because when people treat you like a villain your whole life, eventually you become one.

  But enough about me. We know I’m fucked up, and we know it’s never going to change.

  This is about you, Lex. It’s always been about you.

  Since the moment I saw you, I knew you were that perfect antidote to the poison in my soul, and I knew I would end up burning you down, reducing you to nothing but ash.

  It’s what I do to the people I love.

  And it’s a real shame too, because being with you felt so good. You’re all I think about, even now. The way your lips taste, the way they shiver when we kiss because you’re nervous, and you have every right to be. The way your heart races and your breathing shallows. The way you used to smile at me, like you wanted so badly to believe that I might not hurt you.

  I do hate myself, Lexington. I just need you to know that.

  I hate myself for not being what you need, even though I told you I could be. I wish I could say I just want you to be happy, even if it’s without me, but that would be a lie.

  I guess all I can say now is that seeing your face every day after what I did to you will be the most horrendous, withering, soul-crushing pain of my life.

  You’re welcome. Hopefully, it helps just a little bit.

  Scribbling out the last words, I let out a sharp exhale. Inside, my chest stings, like I have a punctured lung.

  It’s been hard to breathe recently.

  Folding up the piece of paper, I stuff it into my pocket for safekeeping. Then I get ready for the day, brushing my teeth, washing my face, giving Parker his meds. I was able to secure some stuff for him, better than the generic nonsense they’d been giving him, and he seems to be doing better.

  It’s good. It’s the one good thing I have right now, except that I constantly have to deal with him berating me and giving me disapproving looks every time Velle sneaks into our cell at night for some head, or I come back all rumpled from a bang-sesh with one of the many guards, all of whom have since blended together in my mind.

  He thinks I am idiot, and an asshole, for what I did to Lexington, and I get it. He’s not wrong.

  But what else can I say? I fucked up, just like I knew I would. I hurt him, just like we all knew I would.

  And there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing but live with myself and my mile-high pile of mistakes; its own form of torture within these walls.

  The door opens, and Velle clomps in, ready to bring us to lunch. But he has a bag in his hand, which he shoves at me.

  “You remembered my birthday?” I grin, snatching it up and peeking inside. “Aw, Jonathan. You shouldn’t have.”

  “Shut up, Ren,” he sighs, tired and grumpy, which is his personality eighty percent of the time. “No time for dillydallying. Let’s go.”

  I pout, giving one last look to my special bag of tattooing supplies before setting it down on the bed and following him out into the row. I’ll have to check everything out later. I’ve been dying to get my hands on the necessary tools to start tattooing in here. After a lot of convincing, Velle finally caved and got it for me, and I’m super excited. I’ve never actually tattooed before, but I can draw so I figure, how hard could it be? I’ll learn as I go; I just need to find some willing participants who will let me practice on them.

  I’m so busy thinking about all this that I barely even notice Joy is also out here, gathering the rest of the inmates… From this row. Which includes the new guy, Byron…

  And his pal Luthor.

  My gut flops in nerves and excitement, joy and pain. But when he sees me, I’m getting nothing but negative stuff from Lex. Hatred, betrayal, disgust. You know… The regulars.

  I haven’t seen Lex much since that day in the showers. It’s been a few weeks, but that look on his face still remains forever up in my mind, like a poster on your bedroom wall.

  I did try speaking to him once… Jasper let me stand outside his cell for a few minutes. Needless to say, Lex wanted no part of my apology, and I don’t blame him one bit. I mean, I willingly hurt him.

  In a way, I feel like it was beyond my control… But still, that doesn’t make me any less of a raging scumbag.

  So it would appear we’ve moved on from those blissful months, during which I honest to God thought the whole thing might work out. And yes, I’m miserable without him. But like any addict, I fill every second of silence with my drug of choice, in order to avoid ever having to think about what a fucking monster I am.

  It works well enough. When it doesn’t, I write him letters. Like the one I have in my pocket.

  I doubt he’s read any of them, but I still bribe inmates to pass them to him like we’re kids in detention. I imagine him doing lots of things with them, and reading is pretty low on the list.

  Lex purposely ignores me while the group of us trudges through the halls. It’s weird to be around him again… I guess they’re done keeping us apart, now that we’re no longer an almost-item. At first, it seemed kind of baffling that the Warden had actually instructed the guards to keep us from seeing each other. But the more time has gone on, the more I think it makes perfect sense.

  Manuel Blanco isn’t just running a prison. This entire place is like one big game to him, and I wouldn’t put it past him to pull a power move and separate two of the key players.

  I’m lingering behind Byron and Lex, holding Parker’s hand to keep him close to me. But my eyes are glued to the back of Lexington’s head. God, I used to love kissing his neck. His skin is baby soft, and it smells so damn good… Like the sexy, sweet innocence of a boy who should have run far in the opposite direction.

  “Ren, slow down,” Parker whines at my side, stumbling to keep up with me.

  “Sorry…” I mutter, not wanting him to fall or anything, but also just needing to be as close to Lex as humanly possible without actually touching him.

  I’m still staring when I see his eyes shift.

  “Stop looking at me, Ren,” he growls, and my heart nearly bursts when he says my name.

  “It’s a free country,” I mumble, knowing full well he’ll hate that response.

  And sure enough, he slows, face flinging so he can glare at me. He looks like he’s about to chew me out, but then Byron clears his throat. Lex’s shoulders drop a bit, and he just rolls his eyes, facing forward once more.

  I narrow my gaze at Byron from behind. I don’t know the guy too well, but we’ve talked a few times. He’s very quiet, but in his limited words, he expressed his loyalty to Luthor, while also adding that he has no desire to be a middleman in our gay prison drama.

  If you’re looking to avoid gay drama, you came to the wrong prison, Byron Kang.

  In the caf, I grab trays for Parker and myself, and when I go to sit down, I find him seated at our usual table with Lex and Byron.

  Looks like the gang’s back together again. Except that Byron has taken Toby’s place, and honestly, I’m okay with it. Byron is way hotter.

  Slithering into a seat next to our sexy new friend, I slide Parker his tray, my eyes naturally fixed on Lex, who’s diagonally across from me making extreme efforts not to glance in my direction. I peek at Parker, and he shrugs, a look I assume means Lex begged him to sit there so I couldn’t.

  Sighing out a strained breath, I peer down at my lunch. “This sandwich actually doesn’t look half ba—”

  “Why are you sitting here?” Lex barks, and I glance up to find him shooting flames of fury at me through his pretty, green eyes. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over there?” He nods at the next table over, where Percy Gage and his band of dunces are sitting.

  “No…” I murmur, trying to contain my delight that he’s actually looking at me and talking to me, regardless of how much he clearly wants me to choke on my sandwich. “I would always rather be near y—”

  “Ugh!” He cuts me off again with a frustrated snarl. “You know, the one good thing that came out of that whole debacle was knowing I wouldn’t have to see your fucking face every day. And now here you are! Popping back up like goddamn herpes.”

  I know he’s pissed, but I can’t help rumbling a little chuckle at his joke. “Cute.”

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he seethes. “If ruining lives was a sport, you’d take the fucking gold.”

  Swallowing hard, I’m shivering from the intentional hurt he’s doling out right now.

  Mhm… This is it. This is what I deserve.

  “Guys, come on…” Parker sighs. “Can’t we all just get along?”

  My head shakes sorrowfully. “I really don’t see how—”

  “No, we can’t,” Lex snaps, refusing to let me get out a damn sentence. “Well, I mean, we can.” He gestures to the three of them. Then he motions between the two of us. “But we can’t.”

  The table goes silent for almost a full minute, tension buzzing in the air.

  I know I should probably just shut up and eat my food, or move to another table. But I can’t do that. Not with him right here, in front of me. It doesn’t matter that I hurt him… I mean, it does, but in the grand scheme, it doesn’t. I’d sit here and let him throw rocks at my head for all eternity if it meant that I get to be in the same room as him.

  “This might not be the best time to bring it up, but I wrote you another letter,” I whisper to him, pulling it out of my pocket and placing it on the table.

  He stares at me for what feels like an hour, his rage morphing into baffled disbelief. Eventually, he shakes his head and huffs, “You’re completely psychotic.”

  “Lexington, you know I still love—”

  “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbles, rubbing his face.

  “Sweet Jesus, what did I walk into…?” Byron whispers.

  “Ren, for the love of God, stop,” Parker grunts, scolding me with his eyes.

  “What?!” I gasp, anxiety filling me fast. “I’m an addict! I have an addiction. If I relapsed on heroin, would you all be coming at me like this?!”

  My head is all cloudy with emotions, my limbs racked with shivers as I pick incessantly at the skin around my nails.

  You worthless fuck-up. Everyone hates you. See what you do??

  You ruin everything.

  “I’m sorry, okay??” I gasp as my breathing becomes labored. My head drops onto the table, and I cover it with my arms. “Stupid worthless whore…”

  All I can hear are my parents’ voices, screaming it at me over and over. The doctors, teachers, clients… Callum.

  Liar.

  Whore.

  Disgusting.

  Worthless.

  You. Are. Worthless.

  Before I even know what’s happening, I’m smacking myself in the head over and over. Banging my skull repeatedly on the table, hard.

  But I don’t feel it. I actually laugh because it’s funny.

  I don’t feel the pain anymore.

  It’s just a part of me.

  Ren the gorgeous disease, infecting everyone around him.

  Voices are echoing. Hands are touching me.

  I think I feel Lex… I hear him…

  But it can’t be him. He doesn’t care what happens to me. I hurt him, and he’ll never forgive me.

  He’ll never be mine, no matter how badly I want him.

  Suddenly, I’m hoisted up out of my seat by large arms. Cuffs and shackles are fastened on my wrists and ankles.

  I pry my eyes open, vision blurred with tears. Velle is holding me up, and I can barely make out what he’s saying over the mess in my head, the ragged sobs of laughter I’m choking out. But when I catch the word East, my lips tremble with fear.

  Velle is hauling me away as my frantic gaze lands on the table, where my friends are staring. And Lex is sitting right where I was, chewing on his bottom lip while vibrant green worry glistens up at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper to him one last time before a needle is stuck into my neck, and everything goes black.

  I always assumed I’d end up here eventually.

  The East Wing is where they bring the most fucked up inmates in Alabaster Pen, and I’m nothing if not a complete and total mess. I’m their prime target.

  I actually have no idea how long I’ve been down here. It feels like months, but is probably no more than a couple of weeks. Still, it’s exactly as awful as I knew it’d be.

  I spend most of my days laced up in a straitjacket, in a padded cell with no furniture, just wandering around in circles, waiting for the guys in white lab coats to show up and fuck with me some more.

  They’ve done it all, from electroshock therapy, to miscellaneous bloodwork, to dosing me with hallucinogens. I’ve lost count of how many polygraph tests they’ve given me, and how much sodium pentathol they’ve injected me with. The last time they did it, the Warden himself showed up to watch. I don’t know if they got what they wanted, but I think the needle snapped off the machine and it broke because they haven’t given me another one since.

  The worst part of being down here is that I don’t have access to any of my stuff, nor have I been able to seduce any of the doctors or orderlies into giving me things. But I did get to come a few times, during their bizarre sexual stimulation tests. It was like a brief field trip from the torture. Not that any of the doctors are good-looking. They’re all trolls, especially the red-headed fuck who stuffed a twelve-inch long, three-inch thick dildo inside me and put clamps on my nipples.

  Naturally, I got off, but still. He was gross and a little too into the whole thing, if you ask me.

  Anyway, when I saw Velle outside my cell window, I foolishly thought it meant I would be getting out of here. But then he brought me into one of the exam rooms and cuffed me to a chair. So I really have no idea what’s going on.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him, exhausted and partially hallucinating from all the torture and experiments and lingering drugs in my system. “When can I leave?”

  “Soon,” he grumbles, rifling through a drawer.

  “Hey… Jonathan,” I put on my sexiest voice, hoping to lure him in. “If you get me outta here, I’ll let you come inside me. Hm? You can just lie back if you want, and I’ll do all the work. Please?”

  His face slants slightly in my direction, dark, pierced eyebrow quirking in that cocky asshole way he always does.

  I swear, I love to hate the guy. He’s just so hot, it almost makes up for how treacherous he is.

  “Keep that offer on deck, inmate.” He smirks, holding something in his hand. “You’re getting out right now.”

  Relief washes over me, and I breathe out steadily. “Oh, thank God…”

  “But I’ve been instructed to put this on you first.” He steps over to me, holding up what looks like a cock cage; steel casing, with a little lock and everything.

  “Fuck me…” My eyes widen. “Why?? Haven’t you done enough?!”

  “Your beef isn’t with me, darling,” he sighs, tugging my pants and boxers down to reveal my flaccid dick.

  I’m just so damn tired. They’ve killed my ability to even get shame or rage-hard. And if they haven’t all the way yet, something tells me wearing that contraption will do the trick.

  Velle slips my cock into the cage, snaps it shut and locks it, his fingers trailing down my balls when he’s done. It gives me a little rush of blood to my dick, and I can already feel the frustrating ache of not being able to get wood.

  This is going to be just unbearable.

  “Who has the key?” I ask breathlessly, and he grins again, holding it up in his hand. “Fuck my life.”

  “Yea, pretty much.” He slips the key into his pocket, then pulls out a small remote. “And you’re gonna want to behave, 48. Unless you like electricity.”

  I whimper and shake my head. No, I hate electricity now. I don’t care if it powers everything. After being tased and having my brain sizzled like a piece of bacon, I’m officially over electricity.

  “What is really the point of all this??” I grunt. “I mean, honestly. What is he expecting to gain here?”

  “Well, I’m not privy to the specifics, but I’m guessing it’s because when you behave like an animal, you get treated like an animal.” He gives me a pointed look.

  My jaw clenches. “Why is everyone always slut-shaming me?? What’s the big deal? So I like sex, it’s not like I’m… hurting… anyone…”

  My words trail off, and I see Lex in my mind; his devastated face when he walked around the corner and saw me overflowing with cock, when I was supposed to be trying for him.

  Professor Kensington, the dude who lost his job and his family because I was bored.

  The kid who died in the fire at The Edge… because he was with Callum.

  Velle simply shakes his head, pulling up my pants and releasing me from the chair. He then fastens new cuffs and shackles on me and brings me out of the room, walking us out of the East Wing and back up to gen-pop. The whole time, my mind is swirling through all these thoughts, my dick feeling suffocated in this stupid cage, weighted between my legs.

  He brings me to my cell and puts me inside, where I lie down in my bed, drifting off into a cold, lonely sleep. I wake up to banging on my cell door, groggy and confused.

  Where am I??

  Oh, right. Prison.

  Sweet.

  I don’t see Velle anywhere, which is promising in the not-having-my-dick-shocked department. But also, I would like to know how long I’m expected to wear this thing. I’m sure no one plans on telling me.

  Joy brings me to shower alone, then immediately to the caf, and when I get there, some asshole is in my seat. Not even giving a fuck about food, I stomp over to the table, glaring at the stranger sitting next to Lex.

 

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