A Master‘s Game Of Prison and Poison

Amara

Well, I really did it this time. I let out a sigh of frustration and anger as I slam my face into my hands. My eyes are still puffy and swollen from my previous cry fest. Funny thing is, it seems fitting. The here and now of my life. After all the hell I had been through, why would I think my life could land me anywhere but here? I glance at the bars as the guard shuts them. A creepy smile curled up the side of his lip. The dark and light hitting his face so perfectly, you would think it was a comic book. Of course, as of late, my life has felt like a comic book. Except in mine, the villain wins, and I pay the price. I watch the way the light reflects off his buttons, trying to find something to focus on other than the hair standing up on my neck as he stares.

Sweet dreams, he says in a cruel sing-songy voice.

I huff. continuing to ignore him. His breath is taking up too much space in this tiny cell.

How did I even get here? I whisper. Digging at my nails like I always did when I was nervous. I may not have any nails left by the time I get out of here.

I lift my heavy eyes and look around the room once more. Grey concentrate walls and floors, a mat that is supposed to be called a bed. Pretty sure they used the same mats in World War two. A white blanket and pillow were perfectly wrapped around the mat. A metal desk was scattered with books I had been reading and letters from my best friend. The only person who remained at my side through all this. A slight smile crosses my face. At least I have her. At least when I lost everything, my family, my friends, my freedom, my reputation, she still squeezed my hand and walked through the hell fires with me. I lay back on my bed. I miss her. I miss her smile, her laugh, and the way she would tell me to pull my head out of my ass and not let this place get to me.

But it is… getting to me. It's been one week since my sentencing. At the same time, it feels like it's been centuries. One year of this. One year of being an animal trapped in a cage and hoping it does not come out wild. Most of the women here act like wild animals, fighting and screaming. Even at night, you hear screams echoing down the halls. Most people say I should be grateful that I didn't get more time. The judge was lenient with me. Lenient, the word is making my blood boil all over again. Rage puckered their lips, giving the kiss of death. He lost control. He hurt me. Yet he walks free. I wish I had killed him. I wish I had had the strength to finish what I started. Then maybe I would deserve this. Deserve to be here.

I pull the scratchy blanket over my face. The only thing I can hide behind anymore. My thoughts are in a constant spiral. I let out a gasp of air, not realizing I was holding my breath. I focus on the sound of dripping, watching the water drop slowly from the grow and drop, hitting the floor, until I pass out. I wake up like I always do with guards yelling.

Get your ass up, inmate, the smell of his breakfast coming off his hot, digesting breath.

Well, good morning to you too, sunshine, but you might wanna pop a mint before you speak next time

Wrinkles were forming on his head, and redness was filling his cheeks. He was a large, built man, an obvious steroid user.. You know the kind that you find in old '80s action movies. His head was shaved bald, as clean and shiny as the boots on his feet. His uniform neatly tucked into his pants, and gun securely strapped to his side, his baton secured to the other. A large key ring dangling from his belt that clapped with every step he took.

Do you need a shot, inmate? he yells, this time grabbing my arm.

No, sir, just admiring you, I say, checky grunting through the pain in my arm.

Admiring me? He huffs out a breath of air. Why would you be admiring me, inmate? He questions while raising his bushy black eyebrow.

Oh, you are right…there isn't a reason to, my mistake. I smile sweetly at him.

You know, you keep running that mouth of yours, and you're gonna find out what it brings.

His chest puffing out, a form of intimidation, one that won't work on me. His grip tightens around my arm further. Does he even realize how stupid he looks? Why do men push their chests out when trying to induce fear? You are a human, sir, not a peacock.

I believe I already have, that's why I am here.

Why you…

Guard Pike, a booming voice thumps.

He releases my arm and turns around, seeing the Warden staring him down. He stood over 6 feet tall. He had a strong, chiseled face with a perfectly styled goatee. His long black hair was ruffled, indicating he didn't bother to brush it. His bright green eyes pierced down on the guard. If looks could kill, this would be that look. His suit framed his built body, his arms folded, leaning on the door frame. A dark presence looms over him. The type of darkness that takes the breath from your lungs. He was swimming in it. Jesus Christ. He was walking temptation, and I bet he had the ego to match. The air in the room is growing thick and hot.

S…S… sir, good morning, guard Pike, forcing a smile on his face.

I said, What do you think you're doing, Pike?

I was waking up the inmates, sir

And do you wake all inmates up by grabbing their arms, his face hard and tone deep.

No, no, sir, this one was getting mouthy. He glares at me

I see he says pacing towards Pike.

He leans over and whispers something in Pike's ear. His face goes ghostly white, and he quickly scurries out of the room. He's now standing in front of me, staring at me in a way that iv never had someone look at me before. I feel like he is undressing my soul. The air hitches in my throat, and suddenly my cheeks are burning red and hot. What is happening? I want to look away, but I can't, my gaze meeting his, afraid to look away, afraid to show weakness. Air and words are leaving my body, but are unable to be replaced. A warm sensation is building deep in my stomach, and my legs tighten. Focus, Amara, he is just a man. A really sexy man. No, no focus. He is the Warden, and you are a prisoner with enough issues. Getting tangled up in some hot, sweaty fuckery is the last thing you need to add on.

What was your name again?

His rough voice cuts through me, and I slowly let out a breath. Quietly, not to show what his presence is doing to me. I keep staring at his lips, the way they move while he talks. I bet his lips taste good.

My name is Amara.

A-m-a-r-a, he repeats almost seductively.

Waves of heat hit my core, a knot forming in my stomach, the way he says my name alone could undue me. Jesus Christ, what am I going to do? Get control of yourself, girl, you're being crazy. Breathe just breathe.

So, Amara, do you enjoy rattling up my men?

His eyebrow raised, I watch his body relax. The situation now seems less threatening than it had a few seconds ago. The tension released just a bit, bringing a small sliver of comfort to being in a jail cell with no escape, coming in looking like he just walked out of some fantasy novel.

Well, if he wasn't so easy to screw with, I probably would get bored and find another way to pass my time.

Watching the emotions flicker on his face and dissipate just as fast. A crooked smile takes over.

Well, Amara, I look forward to getting to know you.

Just like that, he was gone. Jesus, what a weird morning. I grab my small clear bag of toiletries and head to the bathroom. I stand in front of the sink staring at the mirror. Doing my best to wrap my messy black hair in a bun on my head. The black circles under my pale blue eyes are more dominant today. My cheeks are puffy and red. My once soft lips are now chapped and sore. The cut in my lip scabbed over from that night. The same way my heart feels, scabbed over and worthless. I sigh, bringing cold water to my face, trying to get rid of the evidence of earlier emotions. This is my life now. I laugh. Careful what you wish for… I've always been attracted to the dark, especially with men.

If they weren't a bit intimidating, I found them boring and unworthy of my time. But even with that being my main issue with men, I didn't expect that night. I didn't expect to lose a friend and a lover all at once. I didn't expect to fear, hate, or hurt him. In fact, I wanted nothing of the sort. I'm not sure what I grieve: him, the lies, the fake mask he wore for years, or the fact that I'm stuck here for defending myself. It's all hazy and misguided. It's like trying to untangle a thread with your heart and head. Impossible and messy.

Killain, where are we going?

Somewhere special, little one.

I look out the window, watching the clouds pass by, still upset from our fight last night. Does he really think that of me? After all these years? I thought maybe this would be the man I would spend the rest of my life with. The latest events make me question that, hell, it makes me wonder if I should leave. He at least seems to be in a good mood today. He continues speeding around every corner with the music blasting. We pulled into a field; we had been here many times. Red, blue, yellow, and pink flowers are bursting into life. The green grass blades are dancing with the wind. We make our way to the willow tree we always sat when we came here. I sit down in front of it, taking in the sheer peaceful surroundings.

There is something I need to ask you, little one.

Oh? I looked at him, puzzled, wondering if we were going to talk about our fight last night and the words that stung like daggers through my heart.

Do you see a future with us?

The question threw me off a bit. The past 4 years we have been together, we have not once talked about our future. Something that strangely brought me peace. Most women would leave thinking there was not one. However, not feeling the pressures of such a lifelong decision brought me comfort.

Marry me, little one, be mine forever?

I shake my head, trying to force the memories and thoughts to dissipate. I never thought this was where we would be. Had I said yes, would the results of that night have been different? Or was he just a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at any sudden change? Had I said yes, would he have lost his mind that night? Would I be here? Was this inevitable? I rub my throat, still feeling his hands wrapped around it, his eyes a black void of any soul. I don't know if that image will ever disappear. I still have my shaking hands, trying to pull myself together for the day. Don't show weakness, not here.