The rumors about solitary were true. It was a place you didn’t want to be, especially when what you wanted or needed was to escape the place in your head. My head was already full. You couldn’t escape anything in solitary, not when you were your own worst nightmare. I thought about everything leading up to being here. Could it have panned out any different? Maybe not, but still… I let my body shut down and close in on itself as I waited it out, feeling like time passed by in a slow loop. I wished I had music to listen to, something I could play on repeat to drown out the sounds inside the four walls I was forced to stare at. The dripping condensation, metal scrapping concrete, or the obscure moans and cries from the next cell over.

I had been fighting against myself, the system, and all of the injustices I’d faced for so long, that I’d forgotten how to fight when it counted. That witch of a gang leader, Evangelina, had it out for me from day one. No matter how much I tried to mind my own business and stay away from hers, she always seemed to find a reason to search me out and give me a hard time. I was sick of pussyfooting around her but scared she would kick my ass if given the chance… and that’s how I found myself being dragged down the hallway, bars rattling, kicking and screaming my head off at the unfairness of it all.

She had called me the equivalent of a rotten cunt if my Spanish was anything to go by, and for some reason, it set me off. I allowed myself a moment of weakness, and she goaded me to respond. I tossed the book I was reading down and jumped the table ready to throw a punch I didn’t know I had in me. Guards gave us space to throw a few hits back and forth and when we grappled with each other, wrestling to the floor in a flurry of limbs and screeching like alley cats, they all jumped on us, inmates and guards both, pulling us apart while egging us on.

In the confusion, a gang member was stabbed, and the bloody weapon was shoved in my hand, obliterating any prints that weren’t mine. I hadn’t done it but it didn’t look good for me. Survival made me grip the weapon so she couldn’t pull back and stick me with it. I wasn’t stupid and I didn’t have a death wish. A savvy guard had other ideas and shocked the shit out of me with a Taser that dropped me to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Evangelina spat profanities and lashed out with her jagged nails, catching me across the cheek in a last ditch effort to wound me. It stung something fierce, and I knew I was going to need something to clean the shit out. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the filthy bitch put her hands in toilet water before attacking me. I’d have preferred lemon juice in the cuts but I hoped the infirmary would clean them out.

That was how Cohen–fuck me, the warden because there was nothing personal between us now or ever—found me. My cheek pressed into the dirt, shallow, painful breaths exiting my lungs, and physically messed up in the yard. I couldn’t speak; my tongue was swollen from having bitten it when I got zapped by the Taser. I was sure I’d pissed myself from the dampness lingering down my legs at the periphery of my senses. I couldn’t gather the strength to care.

His shadow standing over my body was enough as he ordered my punishment and left.

Three days in the hole.

He left me there.

Three days in the dark.

He left me there.

Three days of no sleep because every little sound kept me on the edge of my sanity. It was enough for me to question everything from the beginning. I phased in and out, my mind running like a hamster on a wheel. I can’t say I wouldn’t have hurt myself given the opportunity. I swore I lost touch with reality here and there, and had it not been for Garcia sneaking me food, I would have starved since I rejected the normal shit they shoved through the small window twice a day.

Because fucking Cohen Sheppard left me there.

I didn’t understand why he was suddenly being nice to me. He was almost befriending me in some twisted way. I knew Garcia would expect something out of it. I could have told him he was wasting his time, but he obviously had other ideas.

“Get up Cruz.” He kicked at me like I was less than an animal. I leaned up from my corner, eyes squinting and sensitive from the lack of light in the dim square hole. The half opened Bible had pillowed my head in the dark and my arms shielded me until my left was grabbed and I was pulled up in a punishing grip leaving my feet to dangle in the air.

I had the system screw me over. I had my lawyer try dicking me around. There was no way I was going to let this guard mother-fuck with me now.

“Lay off, Garcia.” My voice a gravelly mess echoed in the space, and I yanked my arm back forcefully. He let go of me, and I stumbled back against the concrete wall dropping to my knees. More bruises were forthcoming. Sharp edges jammed into my back and protrusions from the uneven surface nicked the back of my head.

“I think it’s time you paid up for the extras.”

“What fucking extras? Bread and canned soda?” A backhand to my face left my mouth smarting and my scraped cheek pained while a trickle of blood sparked the corner.

“I wanna know if you taste how you look. That skin of yours reminds me of a caramel latte.” Garcia grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward. The sting on my scalp made my eyes burn while his hips ground against mine suggestively. That familiar feeling of bile bubbled in the back of my throat. There was nothing gentle or kind in his intent to grind his stubby dick in to me. This was the shit that could kill you in here. The stuff that fucked with your mind and the choices that were merely between the lesser of two evils, nothing won and nothing gained. I could stay present in the moment and try to fight a losing battle or I could drift off to that warm place, my abuela’s arms on a sunny day in that small Mexican village where nothing and no one could possibly hurt me ever again. It was an addicting alternative and one I contemplated surrendering too. My time here might only be temporary, but it was sure to change me irrevocably.

Turning my head away, disgusted, I said nothing as he gave me a forceful shake. I was mentally slipping away and I could no longer hold onto the edge of my consciousness as darkness started its slow choking swallow.

“Enough, Garcia.” That voice outside the door pierced through me. My savior had returned, stiff and angry, but I would suffer that all the same to be free of Garcia’s punishing hands. There was no cavalry, but his presence helped me realign and shift back to reality.

“See you on the cellblock, Cruz.” With a less than gentle shove back against the wall, he released his hold on me and stalked out of the room. I crouched down slowly assessing wounds.

Cohen stepped inside and reached to pick me up from my sinking knees looking back, watching Garcia leave. “Are you all right?” Firm hands held me up, and one cradled my cheek tenderly. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the tender fleeting touch.

“I’ll survive.” The anger left me like a popped balloon hissing and leaving me exhausted and limp.

“Nene.”

“Cohen.” Our voices mixed, his frustrated and mine tired.

“You scared the shit out of me.” He clamped his arms around me tight and I felt every bruise only now I reveled in how alive it made me feel instead of the despondent mess I was moments ago.

“Is the girl okay?”

“The one who got stabbed? Yeah, she’ll be okay.” He doesn’t tell me any more about her, holding me close.

I licked my dry lips and offered him the only thing I could beside my body. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I can get you information about the Tribe. Something that helps us both.” I was at my lowest point and I’d do anything.

Cohen grunted with an expression I hadn’t seen before, almost defeated. “I doubt you could get the information I’m looking for. The Red Tribe isn’t exactly inviting you to high tea, or did you forget that?”

“All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.” My stomach knotted.

“Nene.” It sounded like a warning.

“If I do it, you will get them to reopen my case. Please?” I begged.

“I don’t like this.” Cohen scrunched his face up.

I smoothed his brow with my pointer finger and he kisses it. I remind him, “We don’t have to like it, but it’s all we’ve got.”

He shook his head.

“I thought you were a waitress in Dallas.”

“I am, or at least I was–my social calendar isn’t what it used to be.” To miss something as mundane as being a barmaid-now that was a treat.

“A mouth too.” Cohen leaned in, kissing the corner of my lips, gently erasing the taste of Garcia’s nicotine-fouled mouth. I felt his smile against my injured skin, his touch a healing balm. I’d sell my soul, or what was left of it to the devil for a brief moment-just to have his kindness touch my battered humanity.

Between soft kisses I asked, “Tell me what you need to know.”

His heavy expression told me he didn’t like this plan. Too bad because I didn’t think I could go through another stint in solitary again.

“Please.” I begged between kisses.

His jaw clenched and my hands stroked down his muscular arms calming the frustration from his body. We might have been using each other for a different means, but I still cared.

“I need to know how the Red Tribe is connecting to the outside from here.” Pulling back from me he’d returned to the gruff exterior I had grown accustomed to. He subjected me to another dark mood, and I nodded.

The things he asked of me were a huge risk, but I didn’t have a whole lot of other options, and four and half years, give or take, in this place, was a long way off. Anything could happen, including not surviving.

“I’ll do it, but I want to know I’m going to get out of here.”

Our eyes locked on one another and we came to a silent understanding. Information for freedom. I could live with that and if there was anything pleasurable in-between, I could also live that.

“That’s my Nene baby.” He planted a quick kiss on my parted lips. The touch was nearly non-existent it was so quick before he walked away, leaving me to follow confused as ever.

“Come on, Nene, back to your cellblock.” He didn’t stop, and I touched my lips to see if I could conjure the brief touch once more, but it was definitely gone as I scurried to catch up. Once again I felt off kilter unsure how to navigate my brave new world. Cohen Sheppard blew hot, cold and it seemed everything in-between.

I might have been leaving the cold darkness of solitary, but part of it stayed lodged deeply within me on my exit back to the yellow halogen lights of my cell.