13. Chapter 13

13

Alfie cursed under his breath as he walked up to Nate's cell. He had spent another day struggling to sleep because of him and the memory of the almost kiss. He promised himself one thing, he would never open the hatch door again .

"Hello, Freshman, did you like the picture?"

"I burned it," Alfie mumbled.

Nate snorted by the door. "No, you didn't. I was thinking about those imaginary boyfriends of yours again."

"What about them?" Alfie sighed.

"I was wondering what kinds of places these boyfriends take you."

Alfie shook his head. "What do you want me to say? Up the arse?"

His heart pounded when Queenie boomed with laughter in the neighbouring cell.

"No, I didn't mean like that. I meant, where would they take you out, what kind of restaurant?"

Alfie used the clipboard to fan the humiliation from his face. Even his eyes watered at his blush. "You're asking what food I'd have on a date?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Probably just pizza."

"I'd take you to a nice pizzeria, just the two of us in a secluded corner. I'd buy you a drink, not enough to get you drunk, but to relax you. We'd talk about your day, and I'd talk about mine. Might even light a candle on the table."

"Aww," Queenie said, and Alfie rolled his eyes but continued to listen to Nate's fantasy date.

"If you were cold, I'd take off my coat, wrap it around your shoulders."

Alfie twitched his nose at the fantasy. The coat would smell of Nate, the tempting fragrance that easily swept Alfie away. His coat would be warm from his body and large enough for Alfie to wrap around his chest and bury himself in.

"I'd whisper in your ear, and you'd shiver and shut your eyes."

Without meaning to, Alfie did just as his fantasy version would have.

"We'd sit side by side, so I could touch you, and you could touch me, under the table so no one would know. We'd keep going with our hands until it was impossible to withhold our moans, and we had to remove clothing."

Alfie opened his mouth, and a soft breath escaped him. He couldn't speak, didn't trust himself, but Queenie said something to fill the silence, and he inwardly cursed.

"Jesus, Nate," Queenie yelled. "You're getting me worked up."

"Shut it, Queenie. I'm talking to Freshman."

The snappy tone woke Alfie from his daze. He shook his head and cleared it of sexual thoughts. He forced a cough and spoke as confidently as he could.

"Not really into the whole pizzeria restaurant. I like my pizza greasy and delivered to my door, so no. It doesn't do it for me. Thanks, but no thanks."

Alfie ticked Nate off the list, then turned to leave before he said anything else sexual. He heard Nate growling words at Queenie and Queenie's higher tone arguing back. Alfie had won that game, and it was another twenty-four hours before they had another sparring session of words.

Alfie couldn't wait.

The next night, Alfie straightened, lifted his chin, and stepped up to Nate's cell. "Prisoner 150."

"Tsch, that's a bit harsh, Freshman."

Alfie shrugged. "You've got a nickname for me, I've got one for you."

"How original, my cell number, like no one's ever called me that before. You, on the other hand, bet no one else calls you Freshman."

"I could ask my boyfriends to start using it while we're in the bedroom."

"Ohhh, you didn't," Queenie said, slapping the wall.

"Only I get to call you that," Nate said, up close to the door. His tone was blunt, and Alfie felt the anger behind it. He retreated, and the next time he stepped up to Nate's cell the following morning, he asked for Nate, not his cell number.

"Hello, Freshman."

Alfie turned to leave but stopped at Nate's sudden question.

"So, was it your dad that taught you to punch?"

Nate sounded normal, not the prowling sex pest that lurked in the shadows.

"Nope," Alfie said.

"Stepdad? Foster dad?"

Alfie clutched the clipboard to his chest. "Some girl in the care home."

Nate hummed at the information. "No mum or dad figure then."

"Nope, I could walk past them in the street and wouldn't know."

"That bothers you?" Nate asked.

Alfie rocked on his heels. "It did, but not so much now."

"Now you pretend you're a hard nut that doesn't care, but really you crave someone to take care of you."

Alfie hugged the clipboard harder. "You know nothing about me. I'm not some kid still crying that mummy and daddy didn't want me."

"No, you're eighteen, never had a family. I doubt you've had a boyfriend either. You act older than you are, but that's all it is, an act."

"Whatever," Alfie growled.

"Most of the guys in here grew up in care. They went down a different route than you. Bet you wouldn't be surprised if someone you knew walked in, huh?"

"No, I wouldn't," Alfie muttered.

Nate hummed as if considering. "Those rough kids give you a hard time in the home?"

Alfie shifted from foot to foot. They gave him a hard time, but it wasn't the only reason Alfie hated the other kids in care. They scared away anyone genuinely interested in fostering, gave the good kids a bad name that wasn't deserved.

Made them lose out on a chance of a family.

"All roads lead back to mum and dad," Nate mumbled.

Alfie took a step closer to the cell. "You don't speak to yours?"

Henry said Nate had a sister, and Alfie knew about the skype calls with his Nana Doris in Australia once a month. He'd not heard anything about Nate's parents, though.

"They're both dead, my mum when I was ten and my dad when I was in my late twenties."

Alfie bowed his head and blinked slowly. "I'm sorry."

He jolted back at Nate's bark of laughter and collided with the railing. He winced and stared at Nate's door. "Why the hell is that funny?"

Nate's laugh softened. "It's obvious you haven't read my file, Freshman, and I'm wondering why."

Alfie opened his mouth, but no words came out. He waited until Nate's laugh had died completely before replying.

"I know you're in here for triple murder; I don't need the details."

"If you'd read my file, you would've known my dear old dad was one of the three. You would not have apologised for his death when I am the one that killed him."

Alfie forced himself to swallow, backing away from Nate's door.

"I bet you spent years wishing you had a dad, and here I am, killing mine. How careless of me, or not. It depends if you read my file."

"I don't want to," Alfie whispered.

"Do you want to know how I did it?"

Alfie shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Why not? Everyone likes details. Everyone likes to know everyone else's business. People see a crash on the road, and they just have to stare, have to slow down in their cars to take it all in. It's human nature."

"Not mine."

Nate chuckled. "You have full access to my file, and yet you don't want to read it."

"I know all I need to know," Alfie mumbled.

"And what is it you know about me?"

Alfie didn't answer.

"How about Queenie? Do you know what he did?"

"Oi, don't bring me into this," Queenie hissed. "Me and Alfie get along fine. Don't go ruining it."

Alfie heard the slap of Queenie's feet as he walked away from his cell door.

"I'm just curious," Nate said. "So, have you read Queenie's file, yes or no?"

"No," Alfie whispered.

Queenie clapped. "Good, keep it that way."

Nate hissed. "You've not read anyone's file in here, and that's your biggest mistake."

Alfie shook his head. "I know why you're both behind those doors. You're being punished."

"Freshman, you are surrounded by rapists and murders, and you haven't read about what they did to their victims. That's why you'll never get off night shift and onto days on H-wing. Ryan knows you haven't read any of the files. He knows you're afraid to, and if you're afraid to read them, there's no chance you can be around us when we aren't caged up."

"I'm not afraid," Alfie snapped.

"Yes, you are," Nate murmured back.

Alfie hurried away, then slammed the gate and glared at the corner of the prison where Nate's cell was hidden in the dark.

"What's he said this time?" Henry asked, peering over the top of his glasses.

"Nothing," Alfie mumbled.

He moved to the filing cabinet and grabbed a section of the files, all in alphabetical order.

"Good," Henry mumbled. "You're starting to take this job seriously."

"Says the man asleep in a chair."

Henry wagged his finger. "Less of that, I'm only resting my eyes."

Alfie turned back to the files and opened the first one. Richard Adams, in for a GBH charge. He sighed, then began to read.

As he read file after file, he realised words like Rapist, GBH, and Murder were horrible on their own, but worse when you learned the context. The details of the prisoners' crimes were darker than Alfie imagined, and by the end of the shift, he peered into the dark of H-wing with nausea in his stomach.

He understood the ‘us and them' feeling the prison had. The small breaches of protocol, obsessive smoking on the job, sex on the job and sleeping on the job were nothing compared to what the men had done inside the cells.

Disgust, weariness, and anger resurfaced in Alfie.

The voices that answered him in the dark belonged to people who had done horrible things. He had always known it, but it never seeped in fully until he registered names, ages, weapons, and for those victims that were still alive, statements. He felt sick, and after each file, he paused and rubbed his hands over his face.

Henry didn't slip his glasses back over his eyes. He watched as Alfie read file after file, as if he had memorised each one. He wanted a reaction, and he nodded slowly each time Alfie hissed or scrunched his face.

"Evil," Henry said. "No rehabilitation for most of the folk in here, and then there's Nate. He's the worst of them."

Alfie stared at the cabinet. Nate's file was still inside.

He was leaving it for last.

At the end of the shift, he tidied the files away under Ryan's watchful eye. He nodded at Alfie, and Alfie nodded back. Some mutual understanding flowed between the day shift and night, and Alfie realised he'd just been accepted. It had taken him months, but all he'd needed to do was read the files and react in the expected way.

The next day was Friday, and Alfie couldn't wait for it to be done. He needed a rest, needed to see Tia, have fun with her on her birthday and feel there was still life away from metal bars, locks, concrete, and the ‘scum of the earth' like Nate had labelled the prisoners on the first night they spoke.

One more night…

Alfie rapped his knuckles to Nate's door at roll call. "I took your advice and went through the files."

"You're lying," Nate replied.

"I'm not—"

"You wouldn't be speaking to me like this if you'd read mine."

Alfie sighed through his nose. "I read everyone's but yours and Queenie's."

Nate didn't speak, but Alfie could feel his presence by the door.

"Why not read ours too?" Queenie asked.

"Because I don't want to hate you, either of you."

Nate chuckled. "You've said you hate me plenty of times."

"Fine, I don't want to hate Queenie."

Alfie turned at the sound of Queenie tapping his nails on his door.

"Thanks, Alfie. That's real sweet of you."

"He's being bloody stupid," Nate mumbled. "What if my file told you I lure young, attractive men to me and then snap their necks?"

"You had the opportunity, and you didn't."

Nate hummed in thought. "Maybe I'm playing the long game, having some fun with you first."

Alfie closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not going to read your file. Even with you saying that, I won't read it."

"Why not?"

"I told you why."

Nate sighed slowly into the door. "Okay, Freshman, you're not ready. I get it, but it will hurt you more, the longer you leave it."

"Why would it hurt me?"

"You're becoming attached. You stay up here longer just to speak to me. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help yourself, and the other night—"

"Nothing happened," Alfie hissed.

"You want to play it like that, then it's on you. I'm sure ‘nothing' will happen again, and I'm offering you an escape. You're young, na?ve, and the least I can do is give you the chance to come to your senses. Read that file, and this will end. Your confusion will end, your desire will end, you'll be free of me."

"I am free, unlike some."

Nate laughed, the smug one that had the hair raising on Alfie's nape. "I've got under your skin, just as you've got under mine, but I care about you enough to offer you an out."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't need your out," Alfie hissed. "I've got my own."

"What does that mean?"

"Tomorrow night…"

"What about tomorrow night?"

Alfie bit his lip. "I'm out clubbing, and I don't plan on going home."

"How do your boyfriends feel about you flaunting yourself?"

"We both know there are no boyfriends, but maybe tomorrow night, I'll find myself a guy. Someone good . Someone whom I one day might call my boyfriend. And if not, at least I'm going home with someone, and who knows, maybe I'll ask them to tie me down, fuck me raw and call me Freshman."

"Don't you dare—"

Alfie was off the landing and down the first set of stairs before Nate could finish.