Detain the Beast

Chapter Two

I agreed to accommodate myself in the world's most notorious prison. I agreed to live in a cell with a possible murderer. I even agreed to befriend said murderer. 

However, I did not agree to this sloppy mess they deem as food.

My spoon can hardly hold the splodge I'm trying to fit into my mouth. It's almost like trying to swallow someone else's vomit. I look over at Augustus and am immediately taken aback by his eagerness towards the food.

He shovels each spoon into his mouth like it's the last and even though he is the epitome of attractive, I can't help but cringe.

"Are you enjoying this?" I question as he finishes his bowl and pushes it, with perfect precision, back at the door of our cell. He ignores me but I decide to continue.

"Do you want the rest of mine?"

He actually looks up, raising an eyebrow before lifting his hand. I quickly scoot over, landing on both knees in front of him. I hand him my bowl.

I watch as he eats, for some reason fascinated. His jaw stretches as he widens his mouth and when he closes, it clenches in the most glorious-

His hand is on my knee and I'm gently pushed away, landing a few inches from where I was originally positioned in front of him. He doesn't want me near him.

"Oh- uh, sorry," I mutter, wiping a stray piece of hair from my reddened face. I get off my knees, flopping myself onto my bed and yawning loudly.

I'd like to say that we sat in comfortable silence, but it was anything but. As Augustus pulls out his 'To Kill A Mockingbird', I decide to pull a conversation from my arse.

"Do prisoners have an outside allowance?"

Surprise, surprise. He says nothing.

I surprise him when I stand up abruptly and stalk towards the cell door. He watches carefully.

Knocking politely, I place my hand on my hip and wait for the little window to slide open. It does.

"Yes?" Davidson, the guard that lead me to this deathly silent cell, replies.

"I have a question."

"What is your question, Belle." He turns his head to me slightly but his back is to the door.

"Can prisoners go outside?"

"An hour a day at 12 pm only but it isn't mandatory."

"Okay." I pause for a second, leaning my body against the door and sticking my chin out of the circular window. "How long have you worked here, Davidson?" I ask, trying to cure my boredom.

"About two years now." He replies after a short ponder, still facing away from me. 

"Who's the scariest prisoner you've come across?" My voice lowers to a mere whisper and I can tell my eyes twinkle with interest.

"You're cellmate." He shrugs and I glance behind my shoulder. It shocks me that Augustus is murdering Davidson with his pupils but as soon as he meets my gaze, they seem to soften.

"That's reassuring," I mumble, looking back at Davidson and sighing softly. "Kind of want you in here more than him, at this point." I'm not sure what inspired me to say that but it came out before I could think. 

I'm suddenly pulled from the door and the window is shut simultaneously. Two hands are at my waist, tugging me back to my bed and forcing me into a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" I gasp, watching as he casually picks his book up and continues as if nothing happened.

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The next morning I decide that I want to utilize the hour outside time prisoners are allowed.

With Augustus' eyes heavily stuck to his book, I knock on our cell door and open the window.

"Davidson?" I question, tucking bits of hair behind my ears.

"Yes?" His answers are always curt and suddenly I miss real conversations with my real friends. 

"I thought that maybe I could go outside today-"

Just like yesterday, the small window snaps shut and Augustus wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me away from the door.

I notice, as he let me go, his eyes drift down the length of my body. I'm not sure what he's inspecting.

"Why can't I talk to Davidson, Augustus?" I ask quietly, taking a step towards him. He avoids my stare, frowning; at himself or me, I'm not sure.

One of his hands lifts and trails from the bare skin on my collarbone, tracing my outline until it rests on my hip. I'm completely frozen.

His fingers dig over my shirt and then he's under my shirt and how do I breathe how do I breathe how the hell do I breath?

Not phased in the slightest, the tips of his fingers run delicately over my skin again and again and gasping is the only way I can gulp down oxygen.

And then the delirious sensation stops because it's like he's suddenly scorched by fire, his body tossing himself away from mine.

He reverses himself, eyes attached to mine until the back of his knees hit his bed. He grabs his book and turns away from me completely. He doesn't look back.

It occurs to me that I should probably breathe.

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