3: Meeting Mathew

LIAM 

I don't know if what transpired was a miracle, or the stars were aligning to my favor, but I got lucky to be transferred to a different cell. 

A lady guard, who introduced herself as Gianna, informed me of the transfer. The relieved sigh that I let out had her chuckling knowingly. 

I hoped the next cellmates wouldn't be as steely as the ones I had just encountered. The thirty minutes I had spent with them felt like an eternity.

Within that short time, they had discussed a schedule on who will have me, when and why. 

It was scary to watch them negotiate over me, but I think the most disturbing part was the fact that I had no way of protecting myself. 

I hadn't even tried to fight them off when one smacked my ass, 'cause there was no chance of me winning a physical fight. 

Luckily, the next block had approachable inmates. At least they weren't eye raping me with every step I took.

Gianna put me with an older guy, who was sleeping by the time I got in. From the state of his body, I knew I would likely succeed in throwing a punch or two in case of anything. 

After spreading my bedding, and placing my two books under the pillow, I sat down on my bed, which was a bottom bunk, and let myself look around my new room. 

It wasn't cozy or anything, but it was better in terms of appearance. And unlike the other one, this was a two-sharing. 

The room had a small open lavatory in the farthest corner, facing the beds, and I dreaded using it. Next to it, there was a small drawer, which I guessed was mine because the table next to the bed was fully occupied.

I was drowned in my thoughts, I didn't realize my roommate was awake. He coughed, snapping my gaze to him. I found his curious older gaze pinned on me. 

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, attempting a smile. 

“How are you?” he asked with a smile that seemed genuine. The warmth in his tone brought my nervousness to a manageable level.

“Fine, I guess.” 

“What brings you in here?” His inquisitive gaze narrowed, 

“I've been assigned here,” He chuckled, obviously amused by something, but nothing I had said was funny. So, I just stared, questioning his sanity for a second. 

“ I know you were assigned here; otherwise you wouldn't be sitting comfortably on that bed.” He countered, 

“What I meant is, why are you in prison, you don't look like the type.” I didn't know there was a type, but I still answered.

“It's a long story,”

“ We have all the time in the world, don't you think?” He asked slyly around the caged room. I looked at him for a while, debating whether, to be honest or not. 

“I won't judge,” he encouraged.

“I helped a friend hide a murder weapon, and in return, he framed me.” Once I said it out loud, I felt stupid. Who does that? You might be tempted to ask. Apparently, me!

He looked at me sympathetically, possibly marveling at my stupidity. I felt conscious. I took deep breaths and for the first time since it happened, I took my time and explained my side of the story to someone because I wanted to. 

By the time I was done, there was understanding in his eyes.

“It's truly unfortunate,” he shook his head warily. “Most people take advantage of kindness and in this place, such naivety will only guarantee your death.” I swallowed, hard. 

“At least you only got six months,” he continued. “You still have a whole life ahead of you, out there.”

I grimaced at his last words because a whole life ahead of me felt like a different lifetime.

And out there felt like a different realm compared to this dump. I offered him a kind smile in return regardless.

“What's wrong?” He asked, maybe due to my changed mood.

I attempted to fight back tears unsuccessfully. All the helplessness, hurt, fear, and anger came rushing in like a broken dam. I tried to wipe the damn tears off using my tunic, but they kept on falling, more and more each time I started to calm down.

“Let it all out,” I heard my roommate say, and it was like I was waiting, for his permission because I broke into loud sobs, hiccups and all. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked amidst tears, hoping his story will get me feeling good about myself.

“Twenty-nine years. “ I heard him say, and I instantly sobered up. 

“ That's really a long time. “ 

“True,” he sighed, “but unlike you, I actually killed someone.” He smiled a little and it creeped me out.

Here I was thinking I am safe, and then I find out I was paired with a murderer. Old, but a murderer, anyway. 

“Don't be scared,” he said, picking on my thoughts. “I only kill those who wrong me.” From his tone, I could tell the last part was a joke, but my brain was stuck on his confession. 

“ Who did you kill,” I found myself asking

“An old friend of mine, the bastard, raped my little girl.” The venom and pain behind his voice humbled me.

I wanted to question him further, but I didn't think it was fair of me to dig into the poor man's misery. 

There was a satisfying silence between us and I assumed the conversation was over, until he spoke again.

He had this bitter smile on his face. After he was done narrating his tale, that's when I found out I was the first one to know of his innocence…

A best friend, he had known since childhood, raped his fourteen-year-old daughter. From what I understood, he had even threatened the little girl to silence, and she resorted to cutting, which didn't go unnoticed.

The truth came out, with the said friend, sitting on their dinner table.

In a fit of rage, he attacked the friend, and it got bloody. The friend was winning. The girl in question grabbed a kitchen knife, and stabbed the enemy multiple times, killing him. Fearing his daughter will end up in prison, he took the fall and got him thirty-two years without parole. He had three more to go.

*

Looking at his frail condition, though, he should be eligible for parole. He was just a father defending his child.

“Where is your daughter now?” I raised a question to keep the conversation flowing.

“She is happily married with three babies of her own,” he wore a huge smile. 

I couldn't help but smile with him. 

“She visits me often,” he continued, “she mostly brings her whole family with her. Once I am out of here, I will move in with them and spend my remaining time with my family.” 

“Is your wife also living with them?” I asked curiously. 

“She was, but…” He paused for a little while and I had my answer. His pained expression spoke more than words could. 

“I apologize for prying.” I couldn't convey my remorse adequately. 

He nodded his head but didn't say a thing. Once again, we were engulfed in silence. 

That's when it hit me that we hadn't exchanged names.

“Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, my name is Liam Anderson.” I stretched my hand out for him to shake, and he did, gladly.

“Mathew Johnson,” he replied warmly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mathew,” I informed. “I very much prefer you for a roommate.” He smiled and laid down on his back. 

I exhaled. A deep satisfying exhale. 

“We will get along just fine,” Mathew murmured.