Reasonable Doubt ✔ | Open Novella Contest 2020 | Complete

Ten - Alex

I stare at the glow from my watch. No matter how I shift, how I lay, anxiety gnaws. The court case, the judge and jury, Colt...

"Kid," Colt growls as I roll over onto my back. "Pick a spot and fucking stick with it. I can't sleep with you writhing above me."

He's back at work tomorrow. More distance. More aloofness.

I drape my arm over my eyes. "Sorry."

The third-shift CO shines his flashlight in the window for rounds. The roar of the steam-powered ventilation system blows.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I rush out, "I'm nervous about tomorrow."

Colt grunts, sheets slide. I imagine him rolling onto his back, staring at the iron rack as I stare at the cement ceiling. "Why's that?"

I don't answer directly. "In your trial...did they show you pictures of the crime scene?"

"Yep."

"How did -" I bite my lip. "How did you do it? Handle seeing it again."

"Easy," he chuckles darkly. "I got a vindictive pleasure out of it."

Chills tighten my spine. I don't want to believe the words. Nobody can feel good about killing another person.

Those that do certainly don't have eyes like Colt's.

"Yours will be different, Alex." Colt adds. "Everyone's is different."

"What happened?" I find myself saying. "What put you in here?"

He doesn't answer. After a time, I think he isn't going to. Then he expels a heavy gush of air.

"I started a year and a half for my 6th underage drunk-driving ticket. Young and dumb." Colt groans, scratches his beard.

"They gave you fifteen-to-life for that?"

"Right toward the end, someone found out I was gay," he heaves after a while. "Took it upon themselves to turn me out. One day I snapped. Lured him into the showers, stomped him until he didn't have a face." He stifles a yawn. Like murder is a common sleepover topic. "Judge tacked on a life sentence to the OVI charge."

The silence is deafening. My pulse slams under the weight of comprehension. The boots, the barrier of ostracization that clings to him.

I had a feeling, but...gay. In prison. Holy shit.

I peer over the rack, see where he's staring down at the Timberland boots with glassy eyes.

"...but," I protest, "he was raping you."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "I took a life. They only lowered my sentence because of the long-term damage."

"Long-term damage?" I clarify, knowing even as I do I shouldn't.

Is that why he's been avoiding me? Did I trigger something, forcing him to his knees like that? The stiff shoulders, the burning eyes.

I'm such an asshole.

Colt changes the topic on a grunt. "What about you? What are you so scared of seeing tomorrow?"

I curl in myself, bracing for the ache. "Javier's body. Police pictures of me covered in his blood. Talking about that night again."

"You're going to have to." A soothing voice replaces the harsh one of the past few days. "Again. And again. You'll build callouses. Eventually you'll stop ripping them open."

We stare at one another for a while. Me, hanging over the rack, and Colt peering up. Neither of us speaks until another security round passes. Then he shifts, sliding toward the wall portion of the rack.

"Come here," he invites, patting the vacated space.

I join him on the lower bunk. It's a tight fit, two men in a twin bed. Colt doesn't seem to mind, drawing me against his chest in an embrace.

Synapses misfire, overstimulated from these months of atrophy. Sight and smell crash and melt with anxiety and memory.

I like how he feels, warm and solid. I shouldn't revel in it the way I do. I shouldn't I want to cling to him and sob into the scripted ink along his collarbone.

I wish I was strong like him.

He smells like Irish Spring, Gain, and tobacco. It's the same soap, same detergent I use. On him, it's dark and delicious like smoky, spicy cologne.

"Tell me what happened," Colt coaxes. "From the beginning."

I do. Everything.

I looked up to Javier's coyoteing and drug running. I got blinded by the life of luxury it afforded. Different from our over-crowded apartment shared by Mama, me, and two other families.

When Raphael got arrested, I became Javier's driver. I ran with the big dogs for a year, standing by while they worked. It got me out of the house, access to parties and clubs, booze and sex. Everything sixteen-year-old me thought was important in life.

I reach the part that breaks me every time, feel the familiar cracking against my thundering heart. Only now I'm not alone in splinting the cleft. Colt's there too.

"I watched him get shot," I confess on a wheeze as his arms band around me tighter. "I sat in the car. I saw - " I grimace, the image of muscle and skin shearing from bone and tendon. "The guy ran...all I could think about was stopping the blood."

Colt clears his throat solemnly. "They convicted you of Javier's murder."

I hiccup a laugh, which turns into a strangled sob. My jaw hurts from grinding my teeth so tightly. I do well at quelling the urge to weep. Until Colt's big hand rubs along my back and shoulder soothingly.

Then I really do cry. Not the silent, stoic tears like earlier. This is loud, ugly, and full of snot. I'm falling apart. I have been since the guilty verdict.

I admit aloud what I hadn't even dared to think. "I wanted it to be me instead of him. He always knew what to do." I take in a shuddering breath. "I'm just a kid."

No comment. No shushing. No false reassurances.

That's what had been offered before. Advise on how to handle the loss. Admonishment for feeling anything. Constant reminders that my brother was a criminal.

Not Colt.

He just keeps up those soothing circles along my back, like he's bleeding the hurt from my heart. Carrying my burden for a bit.

I don't know how long it takes me to return to myself, realize the bone-shattering exhaustion I feel. Eventually the tears stop and I feel a strange sense of peace. Someone heard Javier's story. Someone cared.

That someone is a murderer. A convicted felon.

He's also intelligent and resourceful. Possesses such deep scars I can't imagine the chasm left on his soul.

The CO's alarm pings, signaling the end of my pity party. The end of our sleepover. Time to return to the sphere of friendly indifference.

"Shitty as it sounds," Colt murmurs. "I'm glad it's you here." Stubbled cheek runs along mine, lips ghost against my jaw. "You're tough, Alex. I knew it from day one."

I give a bitter laugh. "When I puked I was so scared?"

"Yeah," Colt chuckles, then unwraps me. I begrudge the loss of warmth. "Now, get to your bunk."

AN://

Thanks for reading! I appreciate your attention to the story 😊

Thoughts on Alex's 'crime'? On Colt's?

Alex finally broke down. What did you think about it? Too much? About right?

What are your thoughts on how Colt handled him?

I appreciate any and all feedback, positive or negative 😊

Stay safe out there

~T