The days begin to add up. Every time we are called to dinner I feel a lightness grow in my heart, ready to be around people who actually desire my companionship. We speak very little, and mostly on small things like how the food is bad or how the grass is especially itchy today, unsure of if we should start speaking about other things that maybe are tabooed. Taylor still hasn’t spoken and I’m tempted to ask Mara about her, but I’m afraid I may offend her, especially if she’s just dreadfully shy.
As we sit at our tables, the guards walk by and make sure that we’re eating; but honestly, they don’t care. They’re more concerned about spewing hateful remarks and branding inmates with idiotic nicknames. They remind me of vultures circling around their dying prey, ready to go in and pick the meat off our bones when the time is right. Whenever they walk by I look down, fearful of what I may see in their eyes, fearful that they may be humans and not monsters.
But that sliver of humanity everyone supposedly possesses has yet to be documented in one of our many pleasant prison guards. There’s one guard in particular that us prisoners fear. He’s a shorter man with broad shoulders and a wide forehead. He has dark brown eyes that are borderline black and he may in fact be the guard who tore us apart when Mara and Taylor were helping me to get to the roll call when I first arrived at this prison. (My memory from that day is shaky.) Whenever he makes eye contact with one of us he shouts hurtful things and occasionally lashes out at us. He’s either a bully or a coward, or probably a bit of both.
One instance when he made eye contact with a girl, he threw her to the ground and beat her brutally. She was a little thing, hardly five feet tall with short choppy blonde hair, and she never spoke out of turn and she certainly never tried to be an advocate for revolution. But nonetheless, he hit her repeatedly with his night stick until blood spilled out of her nose and from her mouth, and she laid there on the ground, a completely battered pulp of a human being.
I didn’t think guards were allowed to be abusive, but that shows how ignorant I was of the mechanisms of prison. But then again I must remind myself that I’m no longer occupying a world where freedom rings. Now, I live in a world where the only place freedom is seen is hanging from a noose. They make examples of some of the inmates who want more than they’re offering. I can see the gallows in courtyard over and there’s been a battered man hanging there for days. I wonder who will be chosen next.
The stout guard tries to meet my eye. Every single time he comes by our table, he stops right across from me and glares down at me. I don’t dare look back up at him. I don’t have a death wish. Once he’s had his fill of glaring at me, he wanders away, looking for his next victim to make feel pitiful.
We all have become aware of that guard’s hatred of us. We all know better than to look at him anymore. We all learn quickly, we remember. It’s one of the good things about being in prison; we learn from others’ mistakes. We don’t have to make our own, and it’s best that we don’t.
I do start to notice something odd about Taylor and Mara’s relationship though. Whenever they are finished eating, they look at each other and smile. I don’t know if it’s an inside joke or something, but they always do it. Maybe it’s a smile dedicated to being together for another day or maybe it’s a smile for the fact that they’re eating. I’m not sure.
Dinner time is certainly a time of happiness, but it’s also a bit frightening all at once. I’d call it an oxymoron. It’s also appropriate that all of the guards are morons. It’s good to see that I’m officially not a complete loner, but now that I have acquaintances, I’m a target for that malicious guard. I guess I’m okay with that though. I won’t have to face his brutality. I’m smart enough to not look him in the eye and get the crap beat out of me.
But then one day our conversation edges out onto ground we’ve never made before. We talk about something actually relevant.
As we sit down at our table, we all seem to know a revelation of sorts will be happening soon. It seems as though we’ve developed a telepathic link of sorts. Or maybe we just have the same amount of patience. The three of us nibble on our dinners, but there’s no point in fighting the inevitable.
Mara is the first to speak. “Aidan, I know we don’t necessarily know you all that well, but you’re the only person that we’ve actually spoken to since we’ve been here. You’re the only one who has even taken notice of us.” She looks down at her food and back up at me. Her look seems distant, like she has trekked very deep into her thoughts. “We trust you. And we hope that you trust us. I know how difficult it is to trust now, but I hope you can try.”
She glances around, probably trying to scout and see how near the closest guard is, scoping how much time she can speak to me without having to censor her message. She looks straight into my eyes and finally speaks her mind. “Aidan, we’re not here because we committed a crime, or even because we were supposed to be eliminated. We’re looking for someone who is a part of our... group. He’s one of our leaders and we need to get him out of here, along with ourselves. “
She checks again to make sure the nearest guard still isn’t close and she continues. I can see the desperation in her eyes. “Aidan, we like you. We hope that maybe if you want to get out, then you’d possibly be able to help us with our plan. It would mean a lot. But if you don’t want to—we understand, we just pray that you won’t turn us in. That’s all that we ask. We’ll leave you alone if you want.”
I take in the information she’s passed along to me, and I think. I think about all that has happened to me since I’ve come here and I think of everything that I could possibly be doing if I wasn’t here. I weigh my options. It’s not a difficult decision. I’m no fool, but I’m also no coward.
“I’ll help you the best I can,” I say. They both smile and I know I’ve made the right decision. Perhaps I may be getting out of this prison after all.