Reasonable Doubt ✔ | Open Novella Contest 2020 | Complete

Sixteen - Colt

I'm not listening to Johnson as he prattles on about coordinating with my family for pick-up pending release. Alex's mouth and tongue steep my mind in a clouded fog of hope and wonder. He knows the darkest parts of me, kissed me anyways.

Fuck, did he kiss. Prison left me fumbling and awkward. Alex was all raw passion and ferver. I ain't ever been more thankful for a single-man cell, exorcising months of pent-up desire.

I am so thoroughly fucked.

All those reasons I kept us apart obliterated. Just with the feel of his mouth, the wet of his tongue. Never mind that I could very well ruin his life.

The therapists encouraged me to become familiar with HIV, try and find normalcy in it. Doc advised me on pre-exposure prophylaxis, condom use, and consistent medication administration to keep my viral load undetectable. The old man even seemed hopeful that I could have a normal sex-life after the incident.

Involvement with me is dangerous, can't ever be normal. The meds are expensive, require frequent monitoring. Hence the follow-ups, the blood draws, the case manager. I can't ask Alex to do that.

Kissing him was a mistake. The best mistake of my life, but an egregious error nonetheless. He's a kid, for fuck's sake. I'm more than half a decade older. I can't ask him to commit like that to a wizened old convict.

I need to talk to him, explain. He needs to understand how wrong this is.

So when A-Alpha releases after 11 o'clock count, I head toward E-Echo. I'm still slathered in grease from this morning. Technically, I'm supposed to report back and fix the tractor engine some idiot managed to flood again. Instead I walk across the corridor and onto the unit. Like I belong here.

I slink past a handful of inmates heading for mass movement, tactfully avoid Burke for a key round and Mowery for traffic monitoring. I was on their block for the better part of three years. Hopefully complacency will ensure I'm afforded enough time to find Alex.

He's on the phone, holding the receiver almost a foot away from his ear. A woman's voice tirades in rapid-fire Spanish. The grin on his face as he listens tells me the scolding isn't directed at him, shows me just how deeply he's connected to his family.

Unlike me.

"Claro, Mama," Alex hums once the chaos has settled. "Adios. Te amo."

"Te amo."

Hanging up, he turns and nearly collides with my chest. Green gaze roves over my backward ballcap, unbuttoned blue smock, ragged tank, and grime. They smolder, darken to the emerald hue they held on the handball court, in the law library.

The urge to grab his collar and drag him to me leaves me breathless. It's exhilarating, terrifying. I'm standing in the middle of the dayroom surrounded by a hundred people. Normally I'd be tracking conversations, the jingle of keys, the call signs on the radio.

Not now.

There's just Alex, full of surprise and lust at the sight of me. Grease monkey chic and all.

Sputtering, he demands, "What are you doing here?"

I grin, use air-quotes. "Working." With a nod at the phone, I muse. "Your mom?"

"Yeah. She can be pretty intense sometimes."

I'll say. Her voice carried in the unit. I'm not sure if that's terrifying or impressive.

"I see where you get your fire." I offer, nod toward the unit entrance. "Law library?"

Alex's lopsided smile tells me he's reading more into the invitation than warranted. Not that I don't want to go back for more kisses. It just wouldn't be fair.

"You won't get in trouble?"

I wring my hands on the filthy kerchief, which almost seems to soil them more. "What are they going to do, fire me? I'm out in five days." We saunter toward the entrance, though my tone gets dark. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

A few Folk Nation members loiter around the base of the stairs near the unit gate. Shuffling, staring. They weren't there when I walked onto the block.

The hairs on the backs of my arms and neck prickle. Noise fades out and everything comes into sharp detail: the careful avoidance of eye-contact from other inmates, the clearing of movement around us.

"Alex - "

It's like watching a firework explode in slow motion. All the volatile power with none of the beauty. Raphael ganks Alex, sucker-punching him in the back of the head and sending him careening onto the concrete floor.

The red returns. Two long steps have my fists cocked, my stance dropped. Feint with my right, jab with my left. Knuckles crack on his cheek, the satisfying give of bone and flesh bruising and breaking beneath my blows.

Raphael falls on the ground. If this were one-on-one, I'd pin him, smash whatever pieces of his face I could until the COs pulled me off. How dare he cheap-shot Alex?

I make good use of the Timberlands, shatter his hand, probably break a few ribs. He howls and I sneer with righteous vindication. He'll have time aplenty to consider the error of his ways while he heals.

"Get him!"

I find it incredible how the brain processes intense situations far more quickly than the body. Before I can bring my guard up, I've calculated how long I have to not die before help arrives.

I've seen and been in a few mini-riots at LeCI over the years. One-on-one fights last a little over two minutes, assaults just under thirty seconds. The cameras are getting an eyeful.

I have five days. I just need to keep my chin down and fists up.

AN://

Thanks for reading! :D. I truly appreciate your continued attention to this tale and the characters herein.

Colt's self-doubt about kissing Alex?

Five days and we have a brawl xD. Actually somewhat typical.

How's the fight scene? The chaos? How does Colt handle it?

As always, thank you so much 😊. Feel free to let me know what you think, no matter positive or negative.

Stay safe out there!

~ T