Page 48 of On Your Life

It’s almost time for my first shift so I decide to go ahead and get ready for the evening.

What began as nervousness has turned into near excitement. I don’t know why I was so nervous, it’s just cleaning. I can do that shit in my sleep.

The brush breaks through the rat’s nest that is my hair, catching on every knot and snagging enough times to make me seriously consider just tearing through it. With some difficulty I manage to smooth it out and place it in a bun to keep it out of my face. I brush my teeth and put on my newly acquired deodorant that doesn’t smell like straight chemicals. I feel almost normal.

Thank fuck for commissary because without it I would be a wreck. They don’t keep luxury items but anything is better than the state issued shit that they expect people to survive off of.

In the common area below the guard sits at the large desk, scribbling away on a piece of paper like he’s trying to hurry up before it’s time to leave.

He isn’t the only one that’s in a hurry. I look over at the time and it’s almost six. Their shift change is at seven and I want to be out of here before fuckface pops in and throws a wrench in my evening.

Every time I doubt that he will do something, he proves me wrong. I’m not losing my job before I even get to start because he wants to play one of his sadistic games.

My slides squeak as I walk down the steps. Women are scattered around the common area in different groups. The noise level is at its usual high for the evening but I can't be bothered with it right now.

“Hey, can I have my badge? It’s time for my shift,” I ask.

The guard glances up at me from beneath his glasses before spinning around in his chair. He pulls out a plastic clipboard and skims over what I’m assuming is a list, before deciding that I’m telling the truth.

“Report back at the desk when you’re done,” he says, tossing the small badge on the desk. “And don’t lose your badge or you lose your job.”

Seems awfully harsh, but whatever. I clip the metal teeth to my collar and nod before heading toward the exit. It may have taken all damn day but my mood is finally improving, and I refuse to let it diminish for my own sake.

Chapter 26

Fox

The word swings around my mind like a pendulum.

Reaper.

Like the fucking grim reaper? It could be nothing. Some random word scribbled on a piece of paper that doesn’t mean anything. But something deep in my gut tells me I found that note for a reason. I just have to figure out what it means.

I don’t have time to try another barrage of passwords before work, so I toss the laptop in my work bag to try again tonight. I’m so fucking close. I can feel it.

Whatever happened to Conner is buried inside that laptop. I just need to figure out how to unlock the damn thing.

The prison gates grind open to grant me entry. The familiar shriek of the metal scraping across my last nerve. I'm only half aware of what's going on around me.

Chit-chat about a BBQ this weekend. Some annual evaluation we have every year. Complaints about scheduling and staffing and other stupid shit that doesn’t matter.

How is it that everyone has moved on so easily when one of our own is gone? I look over to the empty spot beside me where Conner always sat and bitched about these meetings. I can almost hear his voice, his quiet laugh under his breath as he complained about how we need to get our act together. Instead it’s vacant. Just an empty chair.

“…night shift that means you.” The captain’s words finally penetrate the fog in my head.

I look up to find him staring directly at me. Like he knows I haven’t heard a single word he’s said.

“The warden will be through in the next week with the evaluators. I expect you all to be on your best behavior. There will be rounds during the day and night to ensure inmate and prison safety. If you aren’t aware of what this process typically looks like, speak with your chain of command.”

It’s the same shit every year. And without fail, something detrimental always seems to happen when we have an evaluation. It’s like the women know our job is on the line and decide that it’s the perfect time to act out.

That’s what happened to the woman in cell thirteen. Conner said she killed herself after they made their rounds through B pod. Hung herself in the early morning hours, right before shift change.

He was exhausted from bailing his mom out, again. The evaluators were reviewing the cameras when they found her. Conner hadn’t even seen the body. They had to escort him out of the pod for questioning, and he was placed on mandatory leave for a week afterward.

Now, all this evaluation means for me is that I’m running out of time. I won’t be able to play with my little killer while the evaluators are here. Not without risking someone noticing missing camera footage. And who knows if she’ll get the balls to tell them about our evenings together. If she does, I’ll lose my job and may never know what really happened to Conner.

I don’t think I’ll be able to move past this until I know the answers for myself. What better person to ask than the one that killed him?