7. BROKEN CORNERS

MICHAEL POV

The wind grazes my skin like a long-lost lover, but anticipation and guilt overwhelm me as the cold shower from rusted pipes attacks my skin.

Today, I will finally get to meet Ryan and get things off my chest.

Then my eyes catch a commotion. A troubled kid sticks to the corners of the bathroom walls, his eyes full of reproach.

I notice the blood flowing from his laps, and my heart breaks in uttermost dismay. I remember those words, “pick up the soap,” and how he had that unfortunate human rod forced into his butthole without consent.

This is another victim of Blackridge brutality, and perhaps the Almighty sent me here to get the kid out of trouble.

“You so sweet, pretty boy. Your wet cunt and the oud hummmn, its giving. Amma liking it, booooy!”

Those words cut deeper than knives ever could. I see the fear and horror in the kid’s eyes the moment he hears it.

“Come here, boy!” Jamal commands.

The kid trembles, but obeys.

“Let him go!” I speak out angrily.

“Mind your fucking business, Micheal!”

“And what if I don’t?”

I reach for my towel, wrapping it around my fist. Maybe I can teach this dude some manners without drawing too much attention.

The moment the words leave my mouth, Jamal rushes toward me.

His movements, quick for an average man, but to a trained fighter, they are clumsy and slow.

He throws a punch toward my head, but I dodge easily, evading the first, second, third, and fourth punches successively. Then he uses his weight to drive me into the corner.

At that point, I know I need to attack. I drop the towel, exposing my bare knuckles as a smile forms on my face.

The moment he tries again, I tilt slightly to the right and aim for his exposed ribs, delivering five quick, precise punches to the same spot.

His face turns purple as he staggers back in horror. This is probably the first time he has met someone like me.

I sense the shock on the faces of his friends as he gasps for air, clutching his ribs in pain.

“Get him, Jamal! Don’t let the newbie humiliate you like that!”

“Oh damn, Jamal is definitely fucked up. Turns out the new guy can fight after all. He was just concealing his strength.”

This is bad publicity. Something I desperately want to avoid in Blackridge. I don’t want anyone snooping into my business or coming to me for protection.

“Daaaaamn you!” Jamal roars as he charges again.

But he is not even a worthy opponent. His charge is a bluff.

Exploiting his weakness, I strike the same spot again, then sweep his legs. Within seconds, I slam the giant face-first into the wet concrete. The silence that follows is refreshing.

The shock on the faces of his subordinates and fellow inmates amuses me.

“Damn! Dude can fight.”

“How did he manage to conceal his strength?”

“Bruv took on mighty Jamal and defeated him without even getting a scratch. Just how dangerous is this guy?”

The whispers grow louder. Then suddenly, silence invades the room, creeping into every corner.

I see gratitude in the bullied kid’s eyes, then sudden panic as a chilling sensation crawls up my back.

After the confrontation, someone approaches.

My heart skips, then I turn. There he stands behind me. Prisoners’ nightmare Linton himself, looking innocent… but calculating.

“You handled yourself quite well there. Didn’t take you for a fighter.”

The moment his words land, my muscles dances, moving with rhythm and tension... The kind of tension born from months of relentless training.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, big man. Yeah, your muscles show you’re a fighter, but your demeanor doesn’t.”

I stare at him, trying to understand where he’s coming from.

“Get the hell out!” he roars to the prisoners expecting a second drama. The prisoners scatter, leaving just the two of us… and a few of his men.

“I said leave!” he barks again, and the remaining ones disappear from the bathroom.

“This prison is home to murderers, rapists, and violent offenders of every kind. Blackridge is a fire meant to purge them of their iniquities… or burn them in it.”

“You speak in riddles,” I reply, uninterested.

“Mavic City’s penal system sends me the worst of the worst. But the man you’ve provoked… even I wouldn’t have dared him, with all my prejudice against gay people. Let’s just say the life imprisonment on your head might be a lot shorter than you think.”

The moment he says gay people, something inside me stirs. I want to lunge at him.

Damn. I am gay too. But I need to understand my allies and enemies before making any move.

“What do you mean?” I ask flatly.

“His godfather, O’Riley, will come for you.”

“I’m only trying to make a statement. Beat up the new guy, earn respect,” I reply.

“Have you ever thought about leaving this place? Getting out of here alive… unscratched?”

The way he says it, with so much certainty, makes my ears tingle with excitement. And he notices immediately.

“Oh… you like the sound of that, right? I might just have something for you.”

He walks off, that same arrogance in his steps, leaving behind a seed of curiosity… and freedom.

............

The chapel is crowded today. It feels like the inmates suddenly want to turn a new leaf.

No one would suspect these same men are the perpetrators of rape and bullying. Blackridge is only as deadly as the people in it.

Ryan holds his stomach throughout the service. His expression sits somewhere between hate, rumor, and a legend quietly scheming something dangerous.

The service feels like eternity. The sermon keeps going in circles, and after the final admonition, everyone scatters.

As Ryan strolls toward the exit, cuffed once again for reasons best known to the authorities, our eyes meet. “Took you long enough.”

“Why?” he replies, his expression complex.