Ox.
This isn't the first time I've heard the name today. I climb to the top bunk, risking a glance across the mezzanine to the cell across from us again. Tattooed arms have slid through the bars and this inmate named Ox gives me a tiny wave.
"What 'ya got there, Gramps? A new pet?" Ox calls out. His voice is deep, with a chilling playfulness that isn't natural.
Once I'm up on the top bunk, Mace mutters furiously to himself but doesn't respond to Ox's taunts. My protector shoots me an accusing stare and growls out his next words so only I can hear them.
"Pretend as if he doesn't exist, no matter what. Understand?"
But I'm already finding it hard to resist turning my head to get another good look at him. Ox's fully tattooed body was so menacing I wasn't able to see his shadowed face before and I imagine scars running down it – like Mace – and even a tattooed tear drop or two.
"If he's so bad, why doesn't he have a steel door?" I ask, faltering a bit at the end of my question as I take the full blast of Mace's glare.
"He's a monster," Mace insists, eyes darkening. "He might play by the rules most of the time, but Ox and his little gang have attacked fresh pieces of meat like you in the past."
My body tenses and a small voice inside me prays to God I don't end up in the same boat as those fresh pieces of meat. "His gang?" I ask, hoping to get as much information as I can on who to avoid in here.
"Roo's his little sidekick," Mace leans closer over the bars of the top bunk like he's still concerned Ox can hear him. "They came here about two years ago, and since then? Third Block's changed. Trip and Beard—they've been here as long as me—are suddenly shitting themselves to impress him. You'll see what I mean, just… don't trust any one here."
"Except you," I note, trying to keep my spirit as light as possible.
"Why?" Mace snaps. "You don't even know me." He shakes his head – curls bouncing – as if he can't believe my stupidity.
I feel a sweep of heat under the collar of my cheap orange smock. The embarrassment is unfair. My prison-approved guardian sat in a room and agreed to protect me, and now he's making me feel stupid for trusting him?
"I know you won't hurt me," I insist with as much intent in my voice as I can manage. Mace's grey eyes are still wide and disbelieving, but he doesn't counter me again, and his silence gives me courage to continue. "You're not a monster, are you?"
Mace pulls back from the top bunk, turning the scarred side of his face to me and staring at the concrete wall beside us as he battles whatever inner demons my question stirred up.
Why is someone like him even in a special unit like this?
"Bridges said you were the only one he could trust; I think it's because you don't like hurting people."
"That's where you're wrong," Mace intones, grey eyes stormy as ever as they meet mine again. "So get your head out of your ass and start taking this seriously."
As if he's ending this conversation, Mace slams himself to the bottom bunk and lets a silence fall between us. Deep down I know I should leave it. I know it's my first day here, and Mace has effectively warned me he's not a good guy—but I can't accept that.
I lean over the top bunk to see Mace sulking; his arms are crossed over his absurdly large body that barely fits the small mattress he's laying on, and his face when he sees me hanging upside down isn't impressed.
"I promise I'm taking this seriously," I clarify, blood rushing to my head. "But it's my first day here and I'm probably in shock or something..."
Mace lets out a frustrated groan and turns on his side so all I can see is his back.
"The only thing keeping me from a mental breakdown is that I have someone I can trust." His cold shoulder is annoying, but I have a sixth sense that my words are at least a little effective. "Don't rip that away from me," I continue quietly. "Don't make me feel stupid for it, too."
After a few moments of silence—and with my head absolutely pulsing with all the blood pooling there—I breathe out an annoyed sigh and sit up straight.
It's only now that I realize I have no idea what time it is. This day has dragged on forever. I start feeling sleepy from the rollercoaster of it all but even when I lay down, all I can do is helplessly stare up at the ceiling in a state of heightened fear for all that is to come.