Crooked Halos

“I’m not going to let you.”

“He’s got to come.”

“I’m not going to let you take him.”

A sigh and someone’s pacing.

“You don’t understand. He’s got to.”

“I might not understand but I know that I’m not going to let you do this to him.”

“I have to.”

“I’m not going to let you.”

Run.

I almost jump, the voice in my ear so soft, so clear and yet it makes such perfect sense, it feels so natural to listen in this way, to listen to something that isn’t really there.

Jared and Shannon are at the other end of the room but I find it surprisingly easy to slide out of my bed, the door is only a couple of meters away and even just walking across the darkened room, so casually, so naturally, feels so easy to be doing this.

The door opens with a soft click and for the first time ever doesn’t squeak when it slides open and I drift out like a nightmare vanishing with the dawn.

Very nice. Now go to the shower room. They will not find you there.

The shower room. Even thinking of that white-tiled room makes my breathing hitch and I blink rapidly trying to stop my head spinning, my vision blurred with crimson and for a second there I consider not moving and simply letting Jared find me standing here – at this point I’m fairly certain he’ll emerge within the next few minutes.

Don’t be stupid.

I shake my head and the crimson vanishes at the admonishment.

Walking down the corridor, so dark and the cold starting to bite, my breath making little spirals in the air, my fingers running along walls.

Two left, third door on the right, the metal of the door handle feels so cool and slides anti clockwise until the door swings open soundlessly.

I’m surprised to say the least, I thought the wardens locked this door at night.

The moon shines brightly through the windows here, lighting the room, glancing off of the silver metal of shower heads and taps.

More will die tonight, but you are safe here.

I freeze, what I had simply assumed to be a shadow is stirring at the far end of the room.

“Who are you?”

You’re making too much noise. Warden Steven James is outside, his colleague is on the floor above, he will uncover those in room number 729 tonight, the twenty-eight in that room will die in gunfire after Michael Wyman radios for back up.

Even as he is talking I can hear people running upstairs, shouts and gunfire.

I shake my head, backing away from the shadow that continues to move.

“Who are you?”

He shakes what I can only assume to be his head.

It is not important yet.

The gunfire escalates, there is more shouting and some screaming, people are starting to move around in the corridors.

There is no need to worry. Shannon refused to go with Jared to this nights meet.

I blink before I grasp what he’s trying to say.

“Jared…”

Died instantly, he was closest to the door.

My breathing becomes laboured and I can’t back up any more. I slide down the tiled wall into a squatting position and I shake my head, tears trying to worm their way out from my eyelids.

“Jared…”

His death was easier than mine, I can assure you.

The shadow boy hasn’t moved from where he was sat, but seems to have turned his head towards me, although I wouldn’t have sworn to it.

The gunfire ceases and there is shouting, telling people to return to their dorms, telling people to move out.

The quiet murmur, then footstep that fade into silence and I assume that the wardens have returned to their vigilante hall-prowling. Time seems to be moving so slowly, like everything’s in slow-motion, the constant fiddling and twitching of the shadow-boy almost seems to cease apart from every now and again he moves to run a shadowy hand though his hair or scratch something.

In contrast I grow ever more frustrated with the uncomfortable silence and end up pacing back and forth like a caged animal of some description.

You can return now.

It’s him that breaks the silence and I stop in my tracks and looks over where he’s sat.

Be quick and don’t make a sound.

I start for the door, twisting the cold metal and the door is open before I look back to where he was sat, the fact that there are no shadows there now worries me slightly but I continues, closing the door silently and jogging quietly down the corridor, ears trained for the slightest sound of approaching footsteps.

Thanks to sheer dumb luck, or just good timing, I reach the door with no major incidences other than tripping and cursing a bit too loudly once.

The soft clicking of the door sounds like a gunshot as it rips through the silence but within the softer darkness of the room no one notices, everyone sleeps like the dead and the solid iron of the bunks, all lined up in neat little rows…

I climb the ladder in one step and half-collapse onto my own bed, the springs squeaking and groaning in protest as I stare up at the cracks in the ceiling.

I wonder how many there are.

***

Apathy is mans greatest weapon, in my own opinion.

I bolt down my breakfast as if it had done me great personal wrong, without thought or hindsight.

In contrast, everyone else is cautious, some refusing to touch the food at all.

And you know why?

Word on the vine is that it was poison in the food that killed the seven yesterday.

Of course, no one can be sure, because the only way of telling would be to break into one of the wardens offices, which would not only be stupid, but impossible and highly dangerous.

No one cares about Jareds empty seat, I have to say it surprised me, but some government official, made an announcement this morning about the fact that they’d uncovered an illicit sub-crime scene within MerryWeathers walls. He went on to say that he believes these people to be responsible for the recent murders and that they are currently in isolation and being questioned.

I know different.

I know better.

They’re not in isolation, they’re dead.

Hell, the amount of gunfire last night, they’re deader than dead.

Shannon clears his throat and pushes his plate away. He hasn’t eaten a mouthful. He stands up and leaves.

I pause, glancing around the table but everyone seems to be caught up in their own little worlds.

Ryan and Brendon are involved in a heavy make-out session that is really not appropriate when we’re eating breakfast... well, some of us are eating anyway.

Jade’s staring sadly at his soggy slice of toast and Davey’s rubbing his back, trying to reassure him, trying to comfort him.

Gerard’s got a book out and just sits there, reading it, Frank tries to draw him into conversation a couple of times, but eventually gives up and leans away from his boyfriend, toying with the buttered toast with a pout that would be cute was that guy not such a bitch.

I dash out in the direction Shannon left in only a couple of seconds previously. I catch him up easily but he seems to just see through me.

“Shan-”

“Fuck off, Will.”

“Look, Shan-”

He stops, turning around and his expression is one of pure hurt and anger.

“Will, look, I figured that you were fucking my brother. I stuck up for you, I stopped him getting you involved, I looked after you when you came out of solitary… and this is how you say thanks?”

“Shan-”

He interrupts me before I can even say what I was going to say.

“I’m sure you’ve got a nice little speech all worked out and I hate to interrupt it, but just so you know, it’s over. It was over the second you walked in holding his hand, okay? Now why don’t you just fuck off and stop screwing me over already?”

“Shan-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Fine. Shannon. It wasn’t like that, at all. Ever.”

“I know what I saw, William.” He sneers, his lips curling and his eyes flaring with such hate and contempt it scares me.

He spins on his heel and leaves.

And to be completely honest and fair, I have only got myself to blame for that.