Prisoner 409

4. Prisoners Build - 4-O-9

Finally, the weekend arrived, and that mean self-care. I sat up on my cough with various pouches for my hair and all of the necessary combs and tools. 'Squid game' played on my screen as I got my stuff done.

Ripping open the olive shampoo pocket, my phone begins ringing at that moment. With an exasperated smile, I place it between my ear and my shoulder.

"Hello?" I proceed, starting with my roots.

"Ocean," I froze, hands mid-air.

"Trevor?" I squeak.

"What're you doing right now?"

"I'm just . . . washing my hair. You?" I place my packet onto the coffee table and take full control of my phone.

"About to ask the most beautiful woman out to lunch," I suppress a smile, shaking my head as if he could see me.

"I don't think that's possible, Trevor. I'm wrapped up in my hair right now," I explain, "even if I were to be done, it would be later."

"We can do later," he says and I sigh.

"I . . . today's my me day, and I - I have a boyfriend," I blurt and he remains quiet. I shut my eyes tightly from embarrassment.

"I'm aware . . . Ocean I just meant as friends, just because you're not my therapist anymore doesn't mean we should just stop hanging out," I can hear shuffling on the other end, as if he was moving around in bed, "I enjoy your company."

By this time my throat had clogged. I looked up at my ceiling before rolling my lips into my mouth.

"I . . . I have to clean. . we can take a rain check?" I ask, long forgetting about my hair. My eyes dripping with tears, I hear the small exhale.

"Sure, just uh – just call me when you're free, yeah? Don't be a stranger."

He hangs up and I lower the phone to my lap, staring at it.

"Fuck," I mutter, fighting back the tears.

I decided to speed the process along because I was no longer in the mood. Dain stole . . . everything from me. He stole my youth, my social abilities, my personality, he just took it all away and the worst part is, he got to keep his.

I slam my bathroom door, undressing and getting into the shower.

"Honey . . . I just . . .I don't trust that boy," my mother laid both hands on her chest, looking over my shoulder

"Mom, I know but look, he's had a rough patch and he isn't a bad person," I pleaded with her, "I think I might love him."\

Her eyes widen, as they shoot back to him.

"Ocean —"

"I love you, mom, don't wait up,"

"Ocean Devila, get back here right now!" My dad's voice booms, as he finally joins us on the porch but I keep walking.

"Ocean if you leave, you better not come back," he seethes, "you hear me? Don't come back here!"

Halfway through my shower, I realized that I forgot my wide-tooth comb.

I really can't do anything with this mop unless there's a wide-tooth comb so I grab my towel and run into the living room, dripping wet.

The second I grab it and turn to run back into the bathroom, my doorknob rattles.

"Ocean," he calls, my name rolling off his tongue so aggressively, it makes my skin peel, "open the door!"

I look around the room quickly, my lips parted as my chest hammered in my chest. I felt cold like my body was just laying in a freezer, soft drops of water on my skin.

Gulping, I decide to quietly pad back to the bathroom. I knew that he knew I was there, I left the shower running.

My only hope was that he'd believe that I couldn't hear him.

"I know you're in there," he roars and I flinch, cowering in my shower by sliding down the wall into the corner, "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!"

I shut my eyes, rubbing circles around my feet.

My apartment had two rooms. The master bedroom, which I used, and another room that just sat there since I avoided roommates. Even if I did, my landlord always seemed to find one, saying it would be good for me, that it would help ease rent payments, but it wasn't good for them. Dain was toxic, embarrassing, and a psychopath.

"Please, please, please," I murmur under my breath, hoping that the banging stops, and surprisingly, after a few more seconds, it did.

I stayed quiet until I could hear his hesitant footsteps on the gravel before letting out a sigh, and slowly crawling out of the shower.

Shutting off the shower, I stare at myself in the reflection, anger, fear, and desperation stared back at me. It was only a matter of time until he killed me.