Prisoner #56

Chapter 12

That night I lay in my cell. I had taken a book from the library, but had no desire to read it. Tonight, my thoughts were filled with Marlin. The intimate moment we shared together. How I want him again, right now, snuggled up next to me. Feeling that warmth against me, that love, that goodness and innocence brightening my dark world. I know that will never happen, us getting to spend a night together, but one can dream, right?

I sighed. This was one of those moments where I remembered being in prison really sucks. I mean, I think it always sucks, but there are times where I feel worse about it than others.

If I hadn't fucked up my life, maybe I could have truly shared a life with Marlin. We could have cuddled up with each other in bed after a long day. We could have gone into the city together, gone out for a night of drinks and done some bar hopping. Seen a concert together. Gone for a stroll in the park, have a cup of coffee at a local coffee shop afterwards. I think of all the things I want to share with Marlin, and I can't. We are limited to eating meals together, working out, smoking, or having steamy make out sessions. Which, those aren't bad things. It just feels like, because of our situation, we are limited, and it makes me feel bad. What I'm realizing is that there's so much more we could be, but being behind bars won't let us go beyond that.

Then again, I think, Marlin and I would have never met had we not both been incarcerated. He was a closet gay, I was a terrible hitman, and there was no way we would have ever crossed paths. Even in the event we did, I know I never would have even given him a glance, or an ounce of my time. He is a gas guzzler after all, and a man...two things I steered clear from when it came to relationships. Especially gas guzzlers. If anything, if Marcus and I had known him, we would have found a way to con him. Or probably worse, murder him. Usually conning and murder went tire in tire.

My eyes roved up, looking at my lines. I was spacing out as my mind began to wander, a downward spiral starting to ensue.

I know I have told Marlin all the horrible things I did. Yet, that doesn't mean that I don't think about them, and that they still don't bother me.

Especially now, in this moment, a memory came to mind that reminds me that despite Marlin and I being together, the old me could have hurt him, or killed him.

Because I've killed a car just like him before.

It was years ago, but when all you do is sit and think in a cell, it feels like yesterday.

I remember it was close to dusk. Me and a bunch of my cronies were hiding off in some dunes surrounding Matagorda Bay, which is close to Houston, where I lived at the time. We surrounded a small tide pool, the water only a few inches deep, enough for one to park in safety without really getting wet. Well, I was parked in that water, the pool only coming up a few inches past my tires. I had a wicked grin on my face, staring down at a car that was flanked on both sides by two of my cronies. A car we had conned. A car I had the full intention to murder.

A 1992 Buick LeSabre.

Almost the same year and body style sedan that Marlin is. A Pontiac vs. a Buick? Only a simple GM derivative, but they are essentially the same car.

The LeSabre was red, I remember. A deep, blood red color. His eyes were blue. He was a father of a family of four. He had gotten in some financial trouble recently and was in a pickle, needing someone to bail him out. He found Marcus' services and had asked for a loan, to which my stepfather willingly obliged. Marcus gave him a timeline to pay back the money, to which the LeSabre agreed. However, knowing Marcus, I knew he gave the LeSabre an unrealistic timeline. He always did. Once Marcus had access to your bank account, even though he helped front some of the money, he had the full intention to suck you dry, no matter what financial state you were in.