Prisoner 842

Have you ever seen someone so entirely consumed by sadness that it seems to leak out of them? Their eyes, that's where it starts, a hollowness, something just seems dark behind them. Then their smile fades slowly. This usually goes so slow that you may not even notice, then one day you can't remember what they looked like when they smiled, it's been so long. Their shoulders seem to sag, like they've been carrying some heavy weight around their neck. It feels cold and dark, you can get lost in that kind of sadness. I've seen it before, I know the signs. It happens to a lot of us here, so often that sometimes I lay in my bunk and wonder if that's the whole point. This little game, the powers that be, toying with us. Puny little ants, under the magnifying glass waiting for our skin to sizzle and for the heat to consume us. That's what I figured waited for us at the end. Heat, pain, and then, nothing.

"Prisoner 842" The automated voice said. I stood, my number was up. You never knew what came next, you just obeyed. It was easier that way. So many of us seemed blind, we stopped talking, stopped feeling, stopped thinking. We just did what the voice said. It was like being a child's toy, you just let yourself be pulled along by a string, never grasping what was on the other end. It felt like that, like your head was full of stuffing, like your feet just moved along without you telling them to. I stopped and started as the lights told me. The light above the door would flash green to tell me to go and then swing open. I would go and it would close behind me. Not that there was anything behind me. Once a door is closed, it no longer exists in my limited view.

Arriving at my new home, I saw him. My new roommate, he's got that look. That sadness that only comes from a lifetime of pain. The look that makes you just want to hug him and tell him you're sorry. Sorry that the world is cruel, sorry that there is pain, sorry that he wound up here. I stood a moment, just staring. He stared back. His eyes were dark, hollow, they seemed to regard me in a predatory manner, a human succumbed to the darkness. This is what we become after the sadness takes us so completely. A lesser being, a primal animal. He sunk back into the lower bunk, the shadows consuming him. I moved to sit on the top bunk, and just like that, my world was different.

What I remembered from the world before was hazy. It felt like trying to remember a dream after waking up, it slips through your fingers like water. It continues flowing, time continues moving, the world continues spinning, but I'm here now. This is my world now. This room, this man, the voice. These are all I know to be true. Anything before, anything after, it did not exist. I had a name once, a life, a family, a voice. I wonder if my roommate had these things. The thought drifts out into the ether, a silent wondering left unspoken.

---

The prison is automated, there are no guards, only inmates. The inmates only see each other during meal times, other than that they are kept separated. Each block has an exercise bay, and showers that roommates are sent to once a day, your roommate is the only other person you see day in and day out, so oftentimes there is an unspoken bond. Most things here are unspoken. The only voice we hear is that of the automated system. I once read about prisons before this, there were guards, a yard, women and men kept separate, it was a system used to oppress people. I suppose this is little different, but then again, maybe that's just our lot in life. The light blinks green and the door opens. It's breakfast time. My roommate, who I see by the tag on his uniform is Prisoner 722, stalks out. He walks like he's afraid something will attack him if he's not ready. I walk behind him, out meals are automated, we get a tray, the machine portions food onto it, we continue. It's orderly, silent, we file into our seats and eat. All the supplements we need to live, without any of the flavor, three times a day. Prisoner 722 eats with his hands before wiping them on the legs of his jumpsuit. He looks at my tray. Sharing food is forbidden. I eat it while I feel him watching. I know I'm a slow eater, especially in comparison to 722 who seems to have shoveled the food down his throat. I eat with a fork, slowly, as if considering the taste, texture, consistency. As if I hadn't been eating the same thing day in and day out. I feel eyes from across the table on me. I looked up, almost finished eating.

"Pocket it." The man across from me growls under his breath. I feel my eyebrows knit, what does he want? "Pocket it and palm it to me when we walk back to our rooms." He repeats, this time it's clear. He wants my food, and this is not a request. This is a demand. The look in his eyes is predatory, he's angry. Not at me, just in general. I hear a low guttural growl from next to me. Prisoner 722 is growling at the man across from me. They both fall silent. This is no less than I was fed in any other block, why are these men about to fight over my food? I finish eating and hear a little exhale like Prisoner 722 is either dissatisfied with my eating, or he is glad the man across from me didn't get my food. I don't look at him to clarify which. The lights flash and we begin filing back to our rooms, Prisoner 722 lurks behind me as we line up to filter back into our little boxes of solitude. I'm looking at the broad back, this man must work out during his time at the exercise bay.

As this thought goes through my head, something else tries to force its way through my head too. The man in front of me has swung his right arm back in an attempt to elbow me in the head. The impact creates stars in my vision, and I feel my feet sway. Prisoner 722 slows, but does not help steady me. I force my feet to continue despite the spots in my vision. As the man in front of me goes in his room he whispers under his breath "Next time I'll break your nose." And just like that, his door shut and he was gone. I wobbled but made it back to my room. Prisoner 722 stepped in after me and the door slid shut. The moment it was closed I collapsed. My eyes opened to the light flashing green for lunch. My head was pounding but I forced myself to my feet. I felt sick, but I got my food and sat down. I stared at it, unable to eat. Again, the man across from me eyed my food. Something in me told me to just do as he said. Another something in me, a louder something, said to deny him. So I pretended to eat, but slid the food into my uniform. He seems to be excited by this, he thinks I'm doing what he says, but when we line up, I give him nothing. He put his hand back, waiting. And waiting. And waiting, and when nothing came I could hear his teeth grind. "You've made a bad enemy." He snarled, as the door to his room closed. Back in my room I looked at Prisoner 722.

"I'm not going to eat this." I fished the food out and held it out to him. He regarded it like a dog looking at food offered by a stranger. He did not trust me. "If you don't want it, I'm going to flush it." I said. My voice felt odd, I hadn't heard it in so long. My throat hurt from using it after so long. Like a muscle you haven't moved in years and suddenly expect to work. I put it on the far corner of his bed and climbed to my bunk. When dinner came I was once again faced with the man. He glared at me, and when we lined up he looked over his shoulder at me with a smirk. As we began walking he abruptly swung his head back, cracking it into my face. I felt blood gushing out of my nose, he's fulfilled his promise. I stayed silent, and walked back to our room before once again collapsing. I fished the food out, I had once again neglected to eat, and dropped it in the same spot I'd left my lunch. The room was small but we had a toilet and sink, so I moved over to the sink and tried to hold back my tears as I pushed my nose back in place. By the time my nose had stopped bleeding it was our time to exercise. Prisoner 722 and I walked to the exercise bay in silence. I skipped the exercise and went straight to the shower. I sat down in the stall on the cold tile and let myself cry for the first time since I'd been sent here. I cried my first day here, but this place squeezes that out of you quickly.

I must've fallen asleep because Prisoner 722 knocked on the stall door. I stood and turned the water off, grabbing a towel and going to the changing room. He seemed to have already showered and changed so I wondered how long I'd been in there. I changed quickly, glad to be out of my bloody jumpsuit. The light blinked almost the moment I was done dressing and we walked back to our room. If Prisoner 722 hadn't woken me I'd be in trouble for holding us up. I stared at his back, wondering if maybe he had been looking out for me. Or maybe he's just looking out for himself, not wanting to get in trouble. Still, a part of me wondered.

---

The next day, breakfast came and I managed to eat some, but not all of my food. I pocketed the remainder. The man across from me, who I now saw was Prisoner 798 stared at me with an evil smirk. The horror and pain of life sometimes twists people, I thought to myself. Sometimes it just breaks them down into a subhuman state like Prisoner 722, sometimes it makes them something worse, like Prisoner 798. I wonder where on that spectrum I fell. Probably closer to Prisoner 722 given that I was allowing Prisoner 798 to beat me senseless. We lined up and Prisoner 798 cracked his knuckles with an amused grunt. We began walking and his elbow came low, catching me in the gut and making me wheeze. I felt bile rise in me but I held it in. The moment we got to our room I scrambled to the toilet and threw up all that I had eaten. I sat there with the cool metal of the toilet on my face.

"Here." I offered Prisoner 722 my food. He again regarded it with distrust. Turning, he got in bed. "Take it. I can't get up." I said. And then it happened. He said his first words to me. Well, technically word, but still. Momentous.

"Eat." He growled. I wondered if the concussion was making me hallucinate. Maybe hallucination Prisoner 722 was less catatonic, maybe he was right. I nibbled at my food, most of it I threw up, but I was able to keep some down, and it helped. Lunch came with more of the same, by exercise time I was just ready to crash in the shower again. Once again, Prisoner 722 woke me with just enough time to get dressed. I wondered if this was my life now. I sat on my bed considering my lot. It had never been a good lot, but I had never been so at a loss for what to do.

"Prisoner 722?" I spoke into the darkness. Silence answered me. "Do you think we'll both die in here?" I asked. I knew the answer. People were only sent here to die. It was a waiting game, either we killed yourself, one of the other inmates killed us, or we disappeared. Some say the ones who disappear are made into the food, but others say they got out. I think they just moved blocks, and wonder if my old roommate thought she was eating me. I wasn't scared to die, I never had been. I thought about the heat and the pain and the nothing, it didn't affect me like it seemed to affect others. I guess the wondering is what had bothered me. I'd always been the type to wonder. Wonder about everything, I would wonder the day away. And right in that moment I was wondering if Prisoner 798 would be the one to kill me. "Do you remember your name?" I asked. I only barely remembered mine. I was Prisoner 842, I had no need for a name. Sometimes I would remember people saying my name, but it was never a good memory so I would let it slip past like all the others did.

"Andrew." His voice came up to me, drifting on the air like a butterfly gliding through a gentle breeze. Andrew, I wondered if he was an Andy or a Drew guy. Or maybe he was the type of guy who preferred Andrew. I wondered what his name sounded like with different tones, like if someone called him angrily. "You?" He cut into my thoughts with a question. I didn't expect him to ask, I didn't expect him to want to know things about me. He didn't seem the type.

"Lucy." I replied. We returned to silence. It wasn't against the rules to share names, it wasn't against the rules to talk to each other like this. It wasn't against the facility rules, but most people felt it was taboo, you aren't here to make friends, you aren't here to get attached. This is a punishment, not a daycare. Still, I wanted to know everything about Andrew. But instead, I fell asleep.

---

Breakfast came, I ate half and pocketed the rest of my food, and when it came time to get in line, Prisoner 798 smirked over his shoulder at me. To my surprise, and a little confusion, Andrew cut in line, moving between me and Prisoner 798. I wondered if he was just trying to use me for food, and wanted to tell him I was fine taking a hit. We began walking and when Prisoner 798 swung back to hit, what he thought was me, Andrew caught his arm and landed a solid punch to the man's side. I heard a crack and wondered if Andrew broke Prisoner 798's rib. He looked back at us as he slumped in his room with scorn. Entering our room, he returned to his bunk as if nothing had happened.

"I'm fine taking a hit, I don't want to get you in trouble." I said. I was met with silence, as usual. I hovered a moment, wondering if there was anything I could say that would make him trust me. Sighing, I deposited my food and climbed to my bunk.

Lunch came and Prisoner 798 looked livid. "You'll give me that food if I have to kill you for it." He snarled. I stared back at him, blankly. He swung his leg under the table at me, impacting my shin hard. I would have a spectacular bruise but it wasn't hard enough to break anything. Andrew let out a low growl, a guttural noise, as he glared at Prisoner 798.

"Mine." Andrew growled. I wondered if he was talking about me or the food, but it was probably the food. When we lined up Prisoner 798 tried to take a swing backwards at Andrew again. Andrew blocked it easily, taking the opportunity to punch Prisoner 798 in the side again. The man groaned in pain, and his knees began to wobble.

"Mine." Andrew snarled in his ear before landing three blows to Prisoner 798's other side. I felt that was overkill given Prisoner 798's faltering footsteps, but Andrew took both his hands and punched Prisoner 798 on either side of his neck. I reached forward and gently touched Andrew's arm, but he jerked away, brushing past Prisoner 798 and into our room. He sank into his bunk as usual.

"That may have been a bit too much." I said.

"He's breathing." Andrew replied bitterly.

"If you killed him you'd be in trouble." I put the food down in its usual spot and climbed up to my bunk. Andrew was silent. "I don't want you to get in trouble." I said.

"Why?" It seemed genuine, earnest, like he was really confused why I would not want him to get in trouble.

"Because you're my friend." I replied.

"Friend?" He seemed a little offended. I smiled and got down to look at him. It was hard to see in his bunk, but he was eating the food I'd left.

"You're my friend, Andrew." I repeated. He sank farther back, clutching the food possessively. "I don't want you to get hurt by that guy either. He's got a mean swing." I laugh and gently move my hand around my black eye. The swelling had decreased a little, but it still hurt. I climbed back into my bunk, the bruises littering my stomach and leg paired with my black eye and swollen nose were no doubt spectacularly colored. A hand reached up and half of what I'd given him was dropped on the bottom corner of my bed.

"Eat." His voice was quiet but firm, gruff. The fourth of a meal, it wasn't much to look at, but I ate it anyway. I wondered what had changed his mind about food, he always seemed starved, yet he was passing up food willingly. I wondered what dinner would bring, part of me hoped Prisoner 798 just stayed in his room. Another part of me, maybe the more vicious side, wondered what violence Andrew may resort to if he did show. What did that mean for me? That I would think such things, was I any better?

The light flashed, I wondered how long I'd been stewing in my thoughts, caught up in the murky grey of black and white. I hopped down and looked at Andrew. He seemed resigned, as if he knew what came next. I guess we all did, the line, the food, the light, the door. Same as always. We stepped out and Andrew followed me out of the room. I sat to eat, but when I looked up expecting a pained face I caught a smirking one. Prisoner 798 was smirking, not at me, but at Andrew. I glanced over at him, he looked pale, but was eating as normal. Well, normal for Andrew. I ate as much as I could before pocketing the little remaining, and then we lined up as we had been. Prisoner 798, Andrew, and then me. That's when I saw how heavily Andrew was favoring his side. We got back to our room with no fuss, which was a bit of a surprise.

"Are you okay?" I asked the moment the door closed. He sank onto his bed.

"Fine." He growled.

"He hit you, didn't he? Is anything broken?" I asked, feeling a shame spiral incoming. Andrew had gotten hurt because of me. He'd just been protecting me, and now he was taking the beatings that had been intended for me. This could not go on.

"It's fine." He snapped. I looked at him, eyes wide, and saw his eyes flick away from me. He looked a different kind of dark. Was that remorse? Did he regret protecting me? He normally looked so sad, and now he just looked overwhelmingly so. I didn't know how to apologize. The words felt hollow, so I left my food and climbed up to my bunk. When our light flashed for exercise time, we went and I once again headed straight to the shower. I had only cried twice while here, the day I got here, and the day I moved to this block. I felt the tears welling but I suppressed them. I finished showering and changed quickly, and went back out to see Andrew slumped at the weights station. I went over and saw him passed out. He was breathing so I dragged him to the showers and splashed water on his face. He sputtered and his eyes fluttered open. Seeing me, he scrambled away.

"Don't touch me." He growled, sinking back like a scared dog. His eyes bounced around me, searching for signs of aggression. I held my hands up and stepped back.

"You passed out." I said. He glared at me so I just went back out to the exercise station and sat on the bench press. After some time the light flashed and he came out looking showered and changed and we went back to our room in silence. I laid on my bunk staring up into the darkness. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly. There was silence for a long time and I wondered if maybe he'd already fallen asleep.

"I'll be fine." He said quietly. Fine wasn't what I wanted, I wanted to take him to a real doctor and get him well again, I wanted to make him stop looking so sad, so desperately lost in the darkness. But those were far fetched dreams. Whips of desire lost to time. I rolled over, allowing my arm to dangle over the edge of the bed. Some time ago I remember this being a movie trope, girls would lay splayed and if their arm fell off the side like this, it meant they had perished. Their naked skin revealed to the elements of decay while the rest of their body could be hidden, like it would stay the body of an innocent girl forever. I hadn't been an innocent girl in...a long time. I wondered if I could ever have classified as such, if ever that too was nothing but a decayed memory.

"I'm sorry I scared you." I whispered. I wondered what else scared Andrew. Did he fear death like so many others? Somehow I felt that wasn't the source of his fear. Not his death at least. Most of us don't fear death, to be here you have to be familiar with it to some extent. I wanted to shield Andrew from the horrors of life, whatever past trauma left him so visibly shaken by the idea of my touch. I wondered what it would be like to hug him. Would he consider it an attack? Would he even know what I was doing?