My second night in Third Block is much more restful than the first. I don't feel cold, uncomfortable, or terrified; a deep, heavy sleep takes hold of me and doesn't let me go until Mace shakes me awake for breakfast.
With some sleep, I feel like my old self. The numb, hollowed feeling in my stomach from yesterday is gone—for now.
When I climb down the bunk to grab my runny porridge, Mace insists I take a seat on his bed again. I think it's so he can watch me like a hawk and make sure I'm not peeking at Ox. I don't mind, though. I'd rather eat meals together than by myself—and I have a feeling that it's the same for Mace. I want to think he's a simple man underneath his homicidal tendencies.
Mace looks at me like a proud father when I finish my breakfast and even though I hate it, I much prefer being treated like a son than a punching bag.
A guard swings by after breakfast and taps the bars, indicating for us both to turn around. After filling my pockets with some of the toiletries Bridges gifted me, we are both cuffed and escorted from the cell then marched along the mezzanine towards Commons.
I know we're going to the showers, but when we are escorted out of Third Block my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Where are we going?" I ask the nameless guard leading the way, pushing down any worries about being kidnapped Ox-style.
"Shut up," he snaps. He probably would've hit me if Mace wasn't walking two steps ahead.
Mace looks back over his shoulder at me and answers. "Private showers, courtesy of Bridges."
I'm amazed that the merciless Lieutenant would even go so far to arrange something like this. For both of us. I make a mental note not to give Bridges such a dirty look next time I see him, only because of this favour.
And—like Mace thought—we are brought to a secure corridor reserved for guards and led to the entrance of private showers. Doors are lined up along a wall, each containing a completely private shower.
I leave my bodyguard's side for the first time in two days and strip down to soak under piping hot water.
It's heavenly; the water, the privacy, the security.
I lather, rinse and repeat just to wash the first day of prison off me as best I can. My skin is red and glowing with how vigorously I scrubbed myself. When the water cuts off after fifteen minutes I start to towel off, throwing on my orange uniform and stepping out of the private room, guard completely low.
I do not expect Bridges to be waiting on the other side of the door.
His tall shadow startles me so badly I jump and fumble some of the toiletries in my hands; they scatter across the concrete ground spectacularly.
"The hell are you doing?" Bridges snaps irritably as Mace steps out of his shower, too. "Pick all this shit up."
I should feel grateful that this Lieutenant has given us access to private showers—a luxury not lost on me—but he makes it so hard to act nice to him. I am forced on all fours as I hurry to collect all my things, and when everything is tucked away in pockets, I throw Bridges my signature look of death.
"Fucking brat," he mutters at me dismissively, waving at Mace to follow him. The two stop in a corner of the hallway and exchange words in hushed voices I can't overhear. I'm immediately confused—and also kind of pissed—that I'm left out of the conversation.
What could they possibly talk about other than me?
A few moments later, Bridges barks at me to 'hurry my ass up' and waves me over. I hate how quickly I obey him. I almost trip over myself to rush over, but instead of being looped in on what was talked about, I'm slammed against the wall chin-first.
"Easy on the kid, huh? He's not going to do anything," Mace interjects as Bridges almost dislocates my elbow trying to cuff me behind my back. I could hug Mace for his attempts to say anything but I'm convinced the Lieutenant is a psychopath. He doesn't go easy on me at all and in comparison, he cuffs Mace like he's dealing with an extinct butterfly.
"Are we going to the Yard?" I ask Mace—pointedly hiding my winces of pain as I'm grabbed by the bicep by the Lieutenant again. This familiar hold takes me back to my first night here; the way I was manhandled through these halls. The fear that I've only just managed to shake away returns to me, but at least this time I have Mace.
"No, kid. Third Block's on lockdown."
"Lockdown?" I repeat, ignoring the way Bridges is shaking me to shut up. I meet sharp grey eyes that also warn me to stop talking, so I try to telepathically ask, is that why Bridges is here?
I fear the worst as we're led back to Third Block. Every step I take makes my heart pound wildly from unknown. Why are we locked down? For how long are we locked down?
Once we're in front of our cell, Bridges uncuffs the both of us and makes an extra effort to shove me inside. I turn around—mouth opening before I can control myself—but my eyes draw to Ox's cell instead and I immediately shut my mouth.
There, in the small window of a solid steel door, is a smiling face I've become somewhat familiar with. Ox's eyes are lit up in a wild, almost manic way, but he doesn't say anything to me. He gives me a knowing wink and with it, I rip myself away from the bars of my cell before I'm caught by Mace again.
As Bridges locks us behind our own steel-door, I turn to Mace—eyes burning with a million and one questions.
"Knuckle and Roo got into it," he explains, eyes serious and voice grave. "Roo's in the Hospital." My jaw drops at the news; we left for twenty minutes and everything has changed. "All Third Block's locked down for the next week, so get comfy."