The Perfect Dinner

We laughed over the half-meal, talking about old times, our first dinner. The rude waitress who seemed to be into me. The one time I bought an overpriced wine and lied It was cheap because I was scared she would scold me.

She laughed whole heartedly, stealing quiet glances

"You remember that one time when we went snowboarding and I almost got lost in the snow ?" I laughed hard.

That particular memory was really a blast. She almost cried looking for me everywhere in the snow, while I on the other hand was a fudging snowball at the mouth of a cage.

"I do" she smiled.

Her vibe felt somewhat off. Shaky. But I brushed it off.

"You've always taken care of me." She said quietly.

I shrugged stuffing a piece of chicken into my mouth, "that's what you do when you love someone."

She smiled but, I noticed a crack. Her hand tightened slightly around her wine glass.

"Are you okay ?" I asked.

"Sure." She said, she sounded tense.

"Jess..." I tried to touch her hand but she pulled back, "Jess..." I called again, my voice dripping with fear.

She blinked slowly.

"Jessica"

She stood up, "I'm..., I'm okay." Her fork slipped.

Making a shattering noise as it hit the plate.

I rushed over to her, trying to hold her. Her breathing was weird. Shallow. Uneven.

"Hey baby, what's wrong" I asked, trying to sit her down.

She tried to speak. Her words smear together.

She sways, sinking into my body as her eye lids slowly come together.

Panic hit me.

"Stay with me. Jess. Look at me baby. Please.... Stay with me"

My whole body shook with fear as I tried to keep her together.

Her skin was clammy. Her lips pale.

I reach for my phone on the table with shaky hands while still holding her.

I dial the emergency service, my voice shaky as I explained.

She gripped my sleeves weakly, I stared into her already weak eyes, "you'll be fine baby. You will. I promise."

Tears rolled down my eyes as I watched her almost lifeless body.

Her mouth moved, slow.

"You don't have to say anything baby, I'm here"

"I'm sorry." She whispered. Then- her hand falls.

I blink. Once. Twice.

Before I registered what was happening.

Jess was gone. And I was holding her lifeless body.

-Present time-

I stared at him.

Not just at him. Into him. Through him.

He hated that. He hated disobedience. He hated defiance. But if there was one thing I was good at — one thing I’d learned to be good at in this hellhole — it was insurrection.

He gritted his teeth. “A rebellious one, alright.”

Before I could brace myself, his boot slammed into my chest. I lost my balance and fell backward.

The sting from the earlier slap was nothing compared to the fire spreading through my ribs.

I felt my veins pulse.

He crouched down slowly. “Cole Prescott,” he said, grinding out each syllable. “You dare disobey me?”

He laughed. The sound echoed through the quiet office.

“How dare you. You’re nothing but a piece of filth in here. And even if you ever get out there…” His lips curled. “You’re still nothing.”

I bit my tongue, swallowing the words clawing their way up my throat.

Aaron was a man with iron fists. A man to be feared, not challenged.

I knew that.

But I wasn’t easy either.

I lifted my head slowly, meeting his grey eyes. Letting the contempt show.

He watched me, something like curiosity flickering there.

I spat a mouthful of blood onto his boots, never breaking eye contact.

“Fuck you, Aaron. Fuck you.”

For a beat or two, nothing happened. He glared down at me.

Then- he laughed. A crooked one. "Cole. Cole." He sucked in a long breath.

He stood up, unhurried, the flouruscent lights hummed overhead. Illuminating his face.

My spit slid slowly, down his leather boot. Dark slippy red against shiny black.

Then, his expression changed.

Not rage.

Not anger.

Worse.

Disillusionment.

He wiped his foot against the back of my prison shirt. "You'll crack Cole. I know you will."

The way he said it was firm. Like indeed I would.

Maybe I would. Or maybe not. But this today.... I wasn't wiping anybody's ass.

"Take him" he said calmly.

The door swung open almost immediately. Two guards stepped in. Of-course they'd been waiting.

Strong hands grabbed my arms and hauled me up. My ribs screamed, but I ignored. Refusing to make any sound. My knees barely held.

Aaron adjusted his cuffs.

"Solitary, indefinite."

The words hung heavy in the air like the very stench that comes with death.

Indefinite meant days. Weeks. Months even. Whatever it took to break a rebellious soul.

They dragged me down the corridor. The prison swallowed sound differently at night.

Bars shook. Somewhere, someone laughed. Somewhere else, someone screamed.

Most prisoners who were awake watched through bars as I was being dragged along.

No one spoke.

But they saw.

That mattered.

The door to solitary opened. The cell was like a concrete box. No windows. No clock. Just a thing for bolted to the wall and a bucket by the side.

They threw me inside. I stumbled, held myself against a wall.

"He's being nice to you, ya know." One of the guard's said.

"I don't know what's so special about this one, he's always causing trouble." The other said, shaking his head.

The door slammed shut with a bang. Sealing me in. Final.

Their footsteps retreated.

Silence followed.

Not real silence though, prisons never had that.

Just silence-.

I lowered myself into the cot slowly. My chest caught every breath.

My lip was split. I wasn't new to this.

It wasn't my first time to be beaten. And it sure as hell wasn't my first time being here.

But this was the first time Aaron was being the one to pass judgement.

I sucked on the split. My lip burner as I tasted iron.

Minutes passed. Hours even. I had no idea.

It's hard to tell when the lights never changed.

That was the point.

Break the body. Then the mind.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

I could still see his face.

He didn't look angry. Just calculative. Which meant, this likely wasn't over.

This wasn't punishment.

It was preparation.

But for what exactly.

Why me ?

Why only me ?

I pressed my palm against my bruised ribs and exhaled carefully.

Did he really think isolation would shrink me ?, make me grateful/compliant.

Well....

He'd made one mistake.

Solitude has nothing on a man who's already alone.

And in a place like this, rebellion spreads in whispers.

All it takes is one story.

It didn't matter if it was true or not.

I opened my eyes, staring at the blank wall.

Let him think he was winning.

Iron fists can bruise a skin but.

They can't cage a wild mind.

And when that door opens again-

I'll be fucking ready for whatever awaits.