question everything (( Peterick oneshots ))

Cut throat

I didn't do anything to deserve to be locked up.

...

Okay, I realize I do dumb shit. And it's sucks to be on the inside now.

I switch between being on the inside and outside, often promising myself I would go back every time I got out.

Never happens.

When I'm on the outside, I live in a small Vegas apartment with Brendon, Ryan, and Dallon. It's only one bedroom, but we alternate who sleeps on the couch, floor, and bed. (Two people in the bed at a time.)

We all have different ways of bringing in income. Ryan's a prostitute, he's got the worst job. Brendon deals opioids, horrible I know. Dallon works by day as a barista, and by night as a bartender in a dodgy strip club. I work at a corner store. It's low pay, but the owner lets me take home groceries once a week or so for me and the other three guys.

But now I've been arrested...again.

This time it was for trespassing. Last few times were things like public intoxication and vandalism. I went some I wasn't supposed, so why the fuck do I have a four mounts sentence?

I remember sitting in the courtroom, Ryan crying with Brendon trying to comfort him with a shaky yet monotone look, Dallon just looking at me full of disappointment. I'd mouth 'I'm sorry' to him every now and then, he frowned.

Normally, trespassing was just a fine, but since in the past few years I've been in and out of jail for misdemeanors, I'd got a stricter sentence.

Fuck this.

So now I'm sitting a room, full of bunk beds and guys. It's so hot in here from all the body so tightly packed together, a lot of inmates without a shirt.

The room has a couple dozen bunk beds, along with a couple dozen people. There's a range, as per usual in these places. There's old dudes who look at me with hunger, ripped guys with buzz cuts and dangerous attitudes, scared youngish kids in there teens or early twenties (prime age to be made someone's "bitch".) I'm a mix of the last two. I'm 21, but I'm scrappy. I'm not scared. I look like a gay twink though, dirty-ass blond hair with blue eyes and thick framed glasses on my pale face that decides to flare a pick tint on my cheeks and nose occasionally.

"New meat?" I roll my eyes.

Like I haven't heard that ten times before.

"He's so small, tight a-"

"Fuck off." I bark out.

I look up at the two in front of me. I'm sitting in my bottom bunk staring off into space, legs hanging off the bed. The two are youngish, they look 40, but I can tell that's just because they're addicts. (Been there, done that.) is bet on mid to late 20s, early 30s at oldest.

"I'd pin that to a wall and use it." One laughs, the other joining.

"Right." I glare.

"Someone grumpy? I bet he's on his period." They both howl out laughing.

"Mhm sure. Whatever you say." I sigh, looking at the wall again.

"Hey, look at me." One grabs my neck to pull me to look at him.

I react immediately by kicking him, he stumbles back a bit. Nothing too harsh, just a sort of warning.

"Alright, bitch," the other one pushes me down on the bed.

The stumbling one follows suit and sits beside his friend.

"You know," I say calmly as the one pushing me down gets closer to my face, "why don't you two just fuck?"

And that's it, he hits me. I knew him in the balls though, shoving him off me and standing up. One avoid the guy next to me, and speed walk to the other side of the room.

I see a guys snort at the whole situation, smiling evilly as I tread behind his bunk. Apparently, he'd watched this whole thing play out because he shifts so I'm out of the two addict's view. I laugh quietly as the two search, eventually getting close. They stand in front of the guy I'm behind.

"Pete, seen new meat anywhere? brown hair blond, dead pale, like 5'2," fuck you I'm 5'4, "quiet but tough looking sorta...like, uh, he's probably been inside before. He looks like a bitch though, he's feminine."

I'm not feminine at all but okay.

The man "Pete" just shakes his head.

"Saw him early, looks just like a girl. Andy will probably claim him though so I didn't go for it, go for you though. I haven't seen him." He lies through a confident smirk.

"Ah, alright. Thanks, man."

Pete nods and the two run off. Fire truck long red hair and black emo cut addicts are gone just like that.

When the two are gone, Pete turns back to me and pats the seat next to him. I hop up, my eyebrow raised.

"25, robbery with a firearm, Chicago, dead parents, clean three years from a high school heroin mistake, messy, and don't read my notebook—has poetry in it." He says without even looking at me.

"Oh um...21, this time it's trespassing but I've done about every misdemeanor in the book...Chicago too actually but I moved out here after I dropped out of high school in junior year, dad left and mom has a new husband and family without me, three friends and we all live together with shit jobs and lives, clean six months on Oxy and other prescription shit, I like quiet so this loud-ass room hurts my emotions." I says looking at him.

He turns to face me.

"You like quiet?"

Music seems to flood through my brain into my ears, even though no real music is playing. Pete grabs my wrist and pulls me a direction. This is the type of thing I picture music and jump cuts to play through in a movie, so that what we're going with.

He looks around, then pulls me through a door. He slips a keycard into his pocket and puts a finger to his mouth, telling me to not mention that he has that to anyone. I nod shyly.

He smiles, pulling me more.

We go through a few halls, and into a small closet thingy place. It's about the size of a full bathroom, he grabs a jacket from a shelf and throws it at me.

I catch it. He slams himself into a wall and slides down. He sighs and pulls my hand so I'm tumbling down beside him.

"We're meeting here everyday after dinner, okay? I got some pals in other cell rooms that come too," he pauses, "it's quiet in here. We play dumb games, write and draw, some spend the time by just being around others they like...then when someone's sentence ends we keep in contact. I like you, new meat. I want you to join."

"Patrick."

He smiles.

"You in, Patrick?"

I smile back.

"Yea."