“I overheard Kemper talking to Peters,” he says casually.
His pupils look normal, and he’s not fidgeting at all.
Could be true…
“Kemper? The guard from solitary?” I raise my brow skeptically. “Why would he have been up here?”
Ren shrugs. “Not sure. But he was. He said this Dascha guy was just picked up, and the way they were talking, it seemed like he was on his way.”
I peek at Kang again, and he purses his lips, head bobbing in a quick nod.
Alright… Maybe this is legit.
Still, with Ren, you can never be sure. I’ve known him longer than the rest of them, so I’ve picked up on a lot of the subtle cues he gives away when he’s lying. But he’s pathological, so sometimes, it’s still nearly impossible to tell.
“Russo’s gonna want him here, if that’s the case,” Kang says.
Ren nods, his eyes flitting to the doorway when Rook walks by.
“To be continued,” Ren murmurs, grabbing his clothes and rushing out of the showers.
My stomach churns, but I push past it, finishing up my shower.
Minutes later, Joy is walking us back to our cells. Just as we’re approaching the last door, it opens and Rook pushes through, stalking past us. His cheeks are pinker than usual, and he’s adjusting his holster. Joy gives him a knowing smirk, shaking her head.
Unease settles beneath my skin, making me a little squirmy. And I hate it.
Joy brings us into the row, and despite how much I’m trying to fight it, I peer into Ren’s cell. He’s scooping himself up off the floor, flushed and rumpled. I recognize the look right away… the same way I recognize his sounds at night.
This anger… I don’t understand it, and that just pisses me off even more. I fucking loathe this goddamn reaction…
I’ve been down this road, and it’s a goddamn dead end.
Ren’s gaze finds mine, from between the bars. And I remember it again…
Sounds of running water…
The grunts and wet slapping.
Stepping around the wall…
And then pain. Like a knife, slicing right in between my ribs.
5 years ago…
“Alright, I’m back.”
“Have a good pee?” The gruff voice gives way to a smirk I obviously can’t see. But it’s audible.
Laughter pings in my ears, and I chuckle. “Why are you interested in my bathroom habits? I gotta say, that’s a weird fetish, even for you.”
Eyes on the giant screen before me, I grip my controller, thumbs working on the joysticks to move my character across the post-apocalyptic terrain.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” my friend Tony, or DamnDatTony as his username reads, grunts, and a few more bouts of laughter follow.
“It means focus on your own piss, R. Kelly,” I tease into the mic of my headset.
“Snap!” Our friend Reno, aka LuckyShot, cackles.
“Jeez, fine,” Tony grumbles. “I was just trying to be supportive.” I laugh out loud. “But no more! I’ll express no concern for your health.” He launches into some chewing, and I roll my eyes.
“Crazy bastard.”
The controller in my grip rumbles, vibrations signaling that a nuke was just dropped.
“Radiation rumble!” Reno chants.
“Yo, Luthor, stop messing with your house and come join us!” Tony says in between crunching.
“I will if you stop eating in my ears.”
“What are you having?” Reno asks him.
“You even need to ask?” I tease some more. “Frito fuckin’ pie, as usual.”
“You know it,” Tony replies, that southern accent and the fact that he’s mowing down a Texan delicacy giving away his obvious location.
My eyes flick from where I’m finishing up my stockpile, to the new screen name that just popped up as active.
“No need to fret, boys. The queen is here!” KillaClam25 shouts in our ears, and we all cheer.
“There she is!” Tony says between bites.
“Hurry up, Leah! Let’s kill this bitch!” Reno exclaims.
Leah laughs. “How’s it goin’, kids?”
“As good as it can without you around,” I tell her, stomping up to her character and giving her some love. My character makes a heart with his hands, and hers gives me one back. “Missed you, Leez. Where have you been??”
Leah doesn’t answer right away. Pretty standard.
Of our little group of online friends, she’s definitely the most… private.
But eventually, she sighs. “Oh, you know. Around.”
I frown at the screen, because I have very little idea what she actually means by that. But I don’t push it. I just jaunt past her—well, my character does—heading in the direction of the giant beasts we’re about to battle for goods and level points.
“Come on, Clam.” I grin, and she giggles. “Good to have you back.”
I’m a gamer. I think that much is clear, but honestly, it’s a hard thing to explain to people who don’t get it. Video games have always been my thing. But when I discovered the vast world of online gameplay, well… suffice it to say, it changed my life.
I came up an introvert; a quiet kid who took to tech right from the start. I was twelve when my parents got me my first laptop, and even before then, PlayStation and Nintendo were where most of my interests lied. I’m sure now they regret the gift, though…
My Turtle Beach headphones block all noise outside of the game, so I don’t even notice my father’s presence in the room until he’s standing in front of me, waving at my face. Pushing one off my ear, I glance around his body, which is blocking half the screen.
“What’s up?” I ask, though I’m paying more attention to the legendary we’re all trying to slay.
“Your mother wants to know what you want for dinner,” he says in a stern tone, giving way to his underlying dissatisfaction.
I shrug. “Not really hungry.”
My dad’s eyes fall to the giant bag of Smartfood popcorn next to my chair and the open can of Mountain Dew in my cupholder. “Because you spoil your appetite snacking all day.”
“What’s the big deal? She said she wasn’t cooking…” I huff, fingers going crazy on the buttons, shooting hundreds of rounds of my Gatlin Plasma at the huge monster.
“Regardless, we’re eating dinner as a family,” he goes on, wandering around the room, assessing the setup of my ultimate gamer lounge I’ve created in our garage.
Thing is, it’s not just for gaming. My computer is in here, the one I built all by myself; a modification of a machine and software that I undoubtedly made a hundred times better. And maybe not entirely legal… But we won’t focus on that part.
“Lex, it’s a beautiful day,” my father says. “Why don’t you go outside and get some fresh air? It’s too dark in here…”
“It’s always beautiful in California,” I argue. “I can go outside any time.”
“But you don’t,” he gripes, and I finally peel my eyes off the screen to peer up at him.
“I will tomorrow.” My brows lift petulantly. “I have class.”