12. Chapter 12

12

A lfie took a tentative step into the office. His legs were weak, and he grabbed for the back of the chair to keep himself up. "I just punched Nate Mathews in the face."

Ryan widened his eyes and opened and closed his mouth a few times before recovering. "That…that is a serious breach of protocol."

Alfie shook his head and stared at the scuffed carpet. "I know. I—I don't know what to say. I can't believe I did it."

Ryan frowned. "Neither can I. Are you sure?"

"I punched him in the face."

Ryan flicked his chin at the chair and circled behind the desk. "Was it self-defence?"

Alfie managed to move one foot in front of the other and sank down on the wooden chair. He stared at the etchings in the desk. The word ‘Wanker' was carved into the top. Henry had told Alfie a prisoner had done it, but Alfie thought it was more likely a prison officer.

"Alfie!"

"No, I just… I lost it."

He dragged his eyes off the worn desk and looked at Ryan. He expected to see disgust and disappointment, but instead Ryan wore an expression of curiosity. He rubbed at the strip of hair on his chin, staring into space.

"You hit Nate Mathews, and he didn't hit you back?"

"No, the two guys on the gates got there first."

Ryan nodded. "You'll have to thank them. If Dave and Mike weren't there, I doubt you'd still be breathing."

"What—what happens now?"

Ryan shrugged. "I need to talk to Dave and Mike."

Ryan reached for his radio, and it hissed back. He asked for Dave and Mike, and they both responded they were on the way.

"I punched him in the face."

"Will you stop saying that," Ryan mumbled.

Alfie snapped his mouth shut and stared down at his restless hands. His plan of resigning was forgotten. He would be punished, was no better than some of the low-level offenders in G-wing. He stared down at his knuckles, curling his hand into a throbbing fist.

Nate had pushed his buttons, had been plucking at the nerves in his brain since the lights went out last night, and it accumulated in Alfie lashing out. He hated Nate, but staring at his reddened fist, he hated himself more.

A knock sounded on the door, and Alfie turned slowly toward it.

"Come in!" Ryan yelled.

Dave and Mike walked into the room with matching wide-eyed expressions. Other than that, they were the opposite of each other. One was small, the other tall, one wide and one thin, one hairless and one with flowing blond locks tied in a bun.

"Rookie said he struck Nate," Ryan said, flashing a look at both men.

The stocky bald man stepped forward, and an amazed breath escaped his lips. Alfie stared at him, not understanding the expression until he spoke.

"It was quite the sight, and Nate didn't see it coming. He was too stunned to do anything after. He's always so calm and collected, and that wiped the smug smile off his face."

"Is he all right?" Alfie asked.

The skinny man stepped forward, arranging the knot of hair on the back of his head. "Nate, he's fine. No worse than the usual in here. The prisoners are always scraping. I've had worse shaving."

"But I'm not a prisoner. I'm supposed to be responsible, not lash out."

"He was pushing you about," the shorter man said. "Both me and Dave saw him. Several times he shoved you out of the way. You can't let him disrespect you like that."

Ryan tapped his hand on the desk, and Alfie turned back to him. "From what I've heard, he had it coming."

Alfie frowned and shook his head. "I don't understand."

Ryan huffed and itched at his hairy strip of chin. It sounded like scraping sandpaper, and Alfie shuddered.

"You rushed out of here pretty fast this morning, and I wondered what had spooked you. Henry said you were by Nate when the power went out, and you were shaken afterwards but didn't say why. I take it that's why you haven't slept and why you wanted to see me."

Alfie opened his mouth, but he couldn't confirm or deny.

"Did he try something?"

Alfie yanked at the collar of his shirt and shuffled in his chair. He was overly aware of all the eyes on him. His stomach sloshed with guilt, and his face heated with the memory of the night before.

"He just said some stuff. Got—got in my face."

"Threats and posturing, sounds like Nate," Ryan said. "You can't let it get to you."

"But it did, I hit him."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, you hit him, but what was the alternative? Let him walk all over you, run to get help from another officer? If you'd have done that, I would've talked you into leaving. There's no room for pushovers here, especially on day shift."

Alfie didn't answer, and he turned at the sound of footsteps approaching him.

Dave bumped into the back of Alfie's chair. His long face continued to look impressed, and he nodded at Alfie, then at Ryan.

"I didn't hear what they were saying out in the corridor, but it didn't look friendly. Alfie gave him lots of chances, but Nate kept shoving him and smirking, being his usual difficult self. I think the new guy handled himself well, considering. Most officers run away in fear when Nate's around."

It was Mike's turn to step forward, and his hand tightened around Alfie's shoulder. "We've got his back if Nate says anything, but I doubt he will. He wasn't mouthing off on the way to his cell. He was silent and compliant."

Ryan hummed. "Then this goes no further. He threatened you, shoved you about, and now he knows not to push it, but I'm not sure you should work on H-wing anymore. Nate will hold a grudge."

"You're not…you're not to report me?"

Ryan lifted his lips in a smile, not the usual sneer, but an actual smile. He leaned over the table and stared into Alfie's eyes. "It's us and them in here. We look after our own. I'll put you on days on G."

Alfie frowned and shook his head. "I like working H-wing."

Ryan's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "You're turning down a day shift? That's all you've been after, and I finally think you're ready."

"I want to stay on H."

He needed to see Nate, check he was all right, apologise for losing it like he did.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, and the sneer returned. "I'm offering you an out."

"I'm happy where I am."

"Fine. It's your choice."

Ryan flicked his chin out, dismissing all of them. Alfie followed Dave and Mike into the corridor. Dave turned to him and brought his arms up as if boxing. He threw a soft, slow punch at Mike, dodged and weaved, and threw another.

Dave chuckled. "Mike's into boxing. He wasn't expecting that hit from you."

Mike beamed. "You don't look tough, but that was a hell of a swing."

Alfie scratched the back of his head and forced a smile. "I'd better go home."

Mike reached up and rubbed Alfie's shoulders. "That's it, champ. Go rest for round two."

Dave laughed and moved to his designated gate. Mike kept rubbing at Alfie's shoulders until they got to his gate. Alfie passed through, and Mike locked it behind him.

Alfie turned with a tight smile. "Thanks for getting there so fast. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't."

Mike snorted, then rubbed the tip of his nose. "Sure, you do. Nate would've killed you. He's evil, that one. Doesn't even need a reason to kill someone, and now he's got a very big one to kill you. Sleep well."

Alfie couldn't sleep at all. He stared at his huge television, not noticing when one programme changed to the next. He obsessively checked the time on his phone, heartbeat increasing both in fear and anticipation as work got closer. He forced down a sandwich that he didn't taste and a coffee that did nothing to build his energy levels.

The shower beat down on his back, but he couldn't feel it, and when he rubbed citrus bodywash over himself, the scent didn't make it to his nose.

Everyone knew he had punched Nate Mathews. It was all the staff talked about when he arrived, and several of the day shift officers patted him on the back. The twins offered him high fives, and Glen and Marie didn't immediately rush off to the toilets.

They wanted him to retell the incident, and he did in a monotonal voice.

Marie's gaze drifted to the window and the gate to H-wing. "You think they're going to be bad tonight?"

Henry hummed. "Not sure. Nate doesn't take too kindly to being punched in the face, that's for sure."

Marie shuddered. "Yeah, I remember."

Alfie scanned Marie's paling appearance and swallowed hard. "What? Remember what?"

Henry sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "There was another officer before you started, when Nate was new. He was a big guy. He took an instant disliking to Nate. He shoved Nate about a few too many times, and Nate headbutted him."

Marie's eyes widened, and her lip wobbled. "I've never seen that much blood."

Henry nodded. "Yeah, poor guy. We were searching the floor for his teeth all afternoon."

Alfie breathed deep and exhaled through his barely parted lips.

Henry's eyebrows snapped up. "But you don't have to worry about that. He was on day shift. Nate can't touch you, locked behind his cell door."

"Unless he gets out," Glen muttered.

The twin Alfie thought was Dan huffed. "Not likely, the doors haven't failed since I've been here. He'll only get out if one of us lets him out."

"What if he fakes it, doesn't answer the roll call?" Ben said.

Henry wagged his finger. "Even if he presses the emergency alarm on that cell and doesn't answer verbally, we ain't opening it. Leave it to day shift to sort him out."

Alfie frowned. "But what if he needs help?"

Henry sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Every time I think you've made progress, you open your na?ve mouth. Us and them, remember? If Nate Mathews gets into difficulties in the night, it's not exactly a tragedy, and it's far more likely he'll pretend so he can get to you. Trust me, Fish."

Alfie turned away and stared out of the office window at H-wing. He wanted to apologise, but he didn't know the reception it would get.

When roll call came, Glen offered to do Nate's row of cells. Alfie declined, and Glen immediately sagged and wiped the bead of sweat off his brow.

Each cell Alfie ticked off felt like a step closer to doom, and his heart thumped so hard and fast it hitched his breathing. His feet felt heavier, clumsy almost, and when he got to Queenie's door, his knock was so soft Queenie didn't reply.

"Queenie?" he croaked, then rubbed at his tight throat.

"Yep, it's the glamourous Queenie, as always."

Alfie took the final two steps to Nate's door and glanced behind himself. He stood in the farthest corner of the prison, and he heard the gate open and close as Glen and Marie went back into the lobby.

Alfie breathed deep and laid his hand flat on the cell door. "Nate?"

He winced and stiffened his body, expecting a battering of the door, but it didn't come.

"Yeah, I'm here."

Alfie gawped, then sunk his teeth into his lip. Nate's voice hadn't been close. It didn't have its usual alluring tone that rushed over Alfie's skin, leaving a feverish heat in its wake. He sounded redundant, unbothered.

Alfie pushed his lips to the crack of the door and whispered as quietly as he could, "I'm sorry."

"Don't mention it."

There was no sound of Nate getting closer. His voice was just as mumbled and far away. Alfie leaned back and stared at the door. He'd rather Nate shout and hiss than say nothing. No flirty whispers, no asking for him to open the hatch.

Alfie shifted from foot to foot. Then he dropped to his knees, and without thinking on it, he slotted his key into the hatch and opened it as quietly as he could.

The lights from outside the prison shone on the bed, and Alfie could see Nate lying on his back. He held something in his hand above his head, a piece of paper that he turned over in his fingers repeatedly. Nate didn't look at the open hatch. He didn't appear to have noticed Alfie watching him.

Alfie licked his lips, swallowed, then whispered, "I'm sorry, I… I wasn't thinking earlier."

"Why are you apologising? Are you scared I'll get you back?"

Alfie frowned and shook his head. "No, I just—"

"You should be, Freshman. People say I've killed for far less."

"I lost it. I hit you when I shouldn't have."

Nate blew a long breath through his pursed lips. "It's kind of a relief."

"A relief?"

Nate smirked, then sat up on the bed. He still didn't look at the open hatch but the wall opposite.

"You can handle yourself if you need to. My protection will only go so far in here. I'm glad that for whatever reason, you know how to punch. How's the hand?"

"The hand?" Alfie gasped. "Jesus Christ, I'm not bothered about my hand. How's your lip?"

"Stings," Nate said slowly. "I'm guessing the hand does too."

Alfie splayed his fingers on the hatch door and snorted at his reddened knuckles. "Probably not as much."

Nate swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor. Alfie knew this was the time he should shut the hatch. They had made peace, whether fake or real Alfie didn't know, but he had said what he wanted to.

"I guess you want this back?" Nate said, flapping the piece of paper.

He walked forward, his body in silhouette. Alfie realised the paper in Nate's hand was his letter. Nate offered it, not looking at the hatch but at the wall, as if it was irrelevant.

"Still leaving, right?" He sounded bored and flapped the letter with a huff.

Alfie studied him, then reached to get it.

Nate snapped from calm and collected to a striking python. He grabbed Alfie's wrist with his other hand and yanked him forward. His knees pressed painfully into the metal walkway, and he patted his belt with his free hand to get his radio. He couldn't breathe and was surprised his heart was still beating. Pain, he waited for it, waited for the snap of his fingers, or wrist, or the dislocation of his elbow.

He froze when the hand captured by Nate pressed against soft bristles. Nate moved his hand up Alfie's wrist to link their fingers, then pressed Alfie's hand to his face, made him cradle it.

"Nate?" he gasped.

He throttled his radio with his other hand, poised to press down and demand assistance, but he didn't. Nate brushed his face into Alfie's hand, then moved it to his lips.

"Let me go," Alfie whispered.

Nate didn't answer, just continued to lead Alfie's fingers to the places he wanted touched. His lips, more specifically the bump in his lip, the catch of torn skin, and the hard scab that stopped leaking blood. Alfie shut his eyes and swallowed hard. He did not like the feel of the damage he'd done.

"I'm sorry," Alfie whispered and then moved his thumb along the cut.

Nate opened his mouth, and Alfie registered heat on his thumb. He shivered, Nate nipped, and he shivered again. Teeth clutched at each of his fingers in turn before letting go. The metal digging angrily into Alfie's knees didn't matter nor did the edge of hatch door pressed into his chest.

All Alfie could feel was the soft skin of Nate's lips, surrounded by the coarse hair of his beard.

"I…I," Alfie stuttered.

"Wanted to say sorry," Nate said. "Are you sorry?"

"Yes."

"And what if I ask you to prove it?"

Alfie wet his dry lips. "How?"

"By kissing it better," Nate whispered.

"What?"

"You heard me. One peck. That's all I'm asking for, and then I'll believe you."

Alfie forced a swallow, and before he could think on it, he moved toward the open hatch. It wasn't large enough for their faces, just their chins and lips. Alfie hovered, panting at the air between them and drawing it into his lungs. Him and Nate fought for the oxygen, and Alfie knew he was losing when his lips tingled with Nate's hot breath and his head spun.

Just before Nate's mouth met his, he yanked himself out of the lustful bubble and shut the hatch. Alfie didn't rush away even though his mind willed it. His fluttering heart made him rest his forehead to the cool metal door, and he imagined Nate doing the same on the other side.

"Close enough," Nate whispered. "I forgive you."

Alfie didn't rely on anyone, didn't want to have that weakness.

"This…this can't happen," Alfie whispered to Nate, and himself.

Nate tutted. "It is happening, Freshman. Just let it. I'll take care of you. I promise."

Alfie struggled to his feet. He winced at the deep ache in his knees and rubbed his chest where the hatch had pressed.

The radio hissed at his hip.

"Don't forget this," Nate breathed.

Alfie turned just in time to see the letter fall from the side of the hatch. He swooped down, grabbed it, and shoved it into his pocket. His radio hissed again, and Henry demanded he reply.

Alfie trudged away, ignoring Nate's chuckle, and replied that he was fine. He had heard a dripping and thought one of the pipes was leaking. Henry growled it wasn't his responsibility and told him to get back in the office.

It wasn't until much later, when Alfie was home, that he finally unfolded the scrunched envelop from his pocket. He stared at his scribbled handwriting, done in a panic the day before, but when he pulled out the paper inside, it wasn't his letter of resignation.

It was another sketch from Nate, this time titled ‘The Freshman'.

Alfie stared at himself, the tied-down version of himself. Hands secured above his head, shirt open and tie askew. It was different from the other picture. Nate had guessed his body type, no hair, and only a faint etching of muscle. His eyes weren't open but closed, with his lashes fanning down. The blush spread to his jaw, and his throat was exposed, like Alfie was offering it.

He hated that the picture was arousing and repulsive at the same time. He gripped the edge, poised to tear it in two, but something stopped him. He folded the piece of paper and shoved it under his pillow instead.

Out of sight, but not out of mind, much like Nate.