The Depth Of The Darkness

Chapter 2

I didn't see Officer Jackson for the rest of the week. He had simply disappeared. He wouldn't just leave me here, right? Not with my release date so soon. After dinner on Fridays, we have to line up against the cafeteria wall. Our hands have to be behind our heads while our cells are searched. As always, when the guards return, they are annoyed to have found nothing of consequence. It is after they return that Officer Jackson hobbles in, looking haggard. "Am I late?" He asks sardonically. I can't help but gasp at the sight of him. His face is gaunt and bruised. He was limping and battered. It looked as though he had been a personal punching bag the whole week he was gone. Nobody says anything for a moment. Then the foulest of the guards barks, "Whatcha waiting for you wraiths. Back to yer cells!" Everyone scampers out, but as I pause in the doorway and look back, I realize he needs someone to look after him too. 

He snuck into my room in the dead of night, as I knew he would. 

"I have half a mind to beat the shit outta you right now," I snarled. "Where the hell have you been? What happened to you? Don't do that to me!" I shout whispered as I shoved his chest. I wrapped my arms around him. He winced. 

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

"Nothing; I'm fine." 

"You're clearly not fine!" 

"Ok, I might have a few bumps and bruises, but I'll be all right." 

"Sit down," I said, pushing him down on the cot. I started taking off his shirt. 

"What-" He started. 

"Shh," I said. "I'm just seeing how serious this is." He made an attempt to stop me so feeble I could hardly believe he was trying. I couldn't help but gape at him. There was a deep cut on his side with a bandage wrapped around it. Red splotches were starting to bleed through the thick white cotton. "What happened to you?" I murmured. 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I started to unwrap it. 

"Stop-" I cut him off again.

 "It's bleeding through; I need to fix it. Where'd you learn to bandage like this? It's not very good." 

"Summer camp," he spits through gritted teeth. I carefully cleaned it and went to fetch my illegal sewing kit. 

"This is gonna hurt," I told him. 

"I'll be fine," he answered. I gave him a towel to bite down on so he wouldn't scream. He passed out after I had finished. I tried to wake him up, but he wouldn't budge. I eventually just laid down with him. When I woke up, I could tell a few things were wrong. It was too light, and there was an arm around me. And most strangely of all, I felt safe. Then I the events of last night came crashing back to me. I slowly started to get up so as not to wake him. I peeked into the hall to look at the clock. "Shit," I whispered. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" It was half-past nine. We both needed to be gone by now. I woke him up as gently as I could. "Officer Jackson! Wake up; we're late!" He stirred and sat up, looking groggy. "Evangeline?" He looked confused. Then his eyes widened, and he lifted his shirt to look at the gash in his side. "Shit," he breathed. He stood up and groaned. "I need my bag. Where's that damn bag?" He muttered to himself. I watched him pick up his bag and paw through it. "What're you looking for?" I asked. "Something that makes people heal faster. He held up an empty baggie. Damn it," he suddenly looked alert. "I have to go, but we need to talk later," "Alright, see you later," I said, still bewildered. After he had left, I got up to go to the bathroom. Nobody ever used the toilets in their cells. When you flush them, they emit this horrid smell that doesn't go away for weeks. As I was going to the only stall that worked, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same as always. Except my eyes had a bit more life in them, and my sallow skin had a blush to it. I was getting underweight too. There was nothing I could do about that, though. I twisted my hair into a bun and dressed quickly. I snuck into the mailroom and scanned my wrist. As I was settling into my chair and pulling over a mail sack, I heard giggling. I looked behind me to see Iris and Aurelia working on their bags. Iris had shoulder-length red hair with boisterous curls and brown eyes. Aurelia was the opposite; she had lank brown hair and dull grey eyes. They were always picking fights with other inmates, but they usually had Jetta with them. She had huge muscles and could probably snap any of us in half if she could catch you. She was strong but slow. Jetta wouldn't take a job because her family sends her money every week. A few moments later, I hear it again.