Brown-Eyed Boy novel Chapter 3

I hoped the next cellmates wouldn't be as steely as the ones I had just encountered. The thirty minutes I had spent with them felt like an eternity.

Within that short time, they had discussed a schedule on who will have me, when and why.

It was scary to watch them negotiate over me, but I think the most disturbing part was the fact that I had no way of protecting myself.

I hadn't even tried to fight them off when one smacked my ass, 'cause there was no chance of me winning a physical fight.

Luckily, the next block had approachable inmates. At least they waren't eye raping me with every step I took.

Gianna put me with an older guy, who was sleeping by the time I got in. From the state of his body, I knew I would likely succeed in throwing a punch or two in case of anything.

After spreading my bedding, and placing my two books under the pillow, I sat down on my bed, which was a bottom bunk, and let myself look around my new room.

It wasn't cozy or anything, but it was better in terms of appearance. And unlike the other one, this was a two-sharing.

The room had a small open lavatory in the farthest corner, facing the beds and I dreaded using it. Next to it , there was a small drawer, which I guessed was mine, because the table next to the bed was fully occupied.

I was drowned in my thoughts, I didn't realize my roommate was awake. He coughed, snapping my gaze to him. I found his curious older gaze pinned on me.

"Hi, " I said awkwardly, attempting a smile.

"How are you?" he asked with a smile that seemed genuine. The warmth in his tone brought my nervousness to a manageable level.

"Fine, I guess."

"What brings you in here?" His inquisitive gaze narrowed,

"I've been assigned here," He chuckled, obviously amused by something, but nothing I had said was funny. so I just stared questioning his sanity for a second.

" I know you were assigned here, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting comfortably on that bed." He countered,

"What I meant is, why are you in prison, you don't look like the type." I didn't know there was a type, but I still answered.

"It's a long story,"

" We have all the time in the world, don't you think?" He asked slyly around the caged room. I looked at him for a while debating whether, to be honest or not.

"I won't judge," he encouraged.

"I helped a friend hide a murder weapon and in return he framed me." Once I said it out loud, I felt stupid. Who does that? Apparently me.

He looked at me sympathetically, possibly marveling at my stupidity. I felt conscious. I took deep breaths and for the first time since it happened, I took my time and explained my side of the story to someone because I wanted to.

By the time I was done there was understanding in his eyes.

"It's truly unfortunate," he shook his head warily. "Most people take advantage of kindness and in this place, such naivety will only guarantee your death." I swallowed, hard.

"An old friend of mine, the bastard raped my little girl." The venom and pain behind his voice humbled me.

I wanted to question him further, but I didn't think it was fair of me to dig into the poor man's misery.

There was a satisfying silence between us and I assumed the conversation was over, until he spoke again.

He had this bitter smile on his face. After he was done narrating his tale, that's when I found out I was the first one to know of his innocence...

A best friend he had known since childhood, raped his fourteen-year-old daughter. From what I understood, he had even threatened the little girl to silence, and she resorted to cutting, which didn't go unnoticed.

The truth came out, with the said friend, sitting on their dinner table.

In a fit of rage, he attacked the friend and it got bloody. The friend was winning. The girl in question grabbed a kitchen knife, and stabbed the enemy multiple times killing him. Fearing his daughter will end up in prison, he took the fall and got him thirty-two years without parole. He had three more to go.

Looking at his frail condition though, he should be eligible for parole. He was just a father defending his child.

"Where is your daughter now?" I raised a question to keep the conversation flowing.

"She is happily married with three babies of her own," he wore a huge smile.

I couldn't help but smile with him.

"She visits me often," he continued, "she mostly brings her whole family with her. Once I am out of here, I will move in with them and spend my remaining time with my family."