You Don't Know What They Do To Guys Like Me In Prison

We say nothing more to each other, preferring to stay in our own little bubbles. I think about how I’m going to hide, and him? Well. I assume he’s thinking about that girl he was with a few nights ago. For some reason the thought of her makes me angry. Why does Frank like her so much? Why not me? It’s only when Frank clears his throat that I notice my knuckles have turned white from my grip on the steering wheel. I try to relax some of the tension. Taking breaths like Frank did only a few minutes ago.

“We… We should stop for the night.” I mutter, getting off the highway to look for tonight’s shelter. Lucky us, we’re in a tiny little town with no motels. Great. My eyes wander the streets and I sigh inwardly. I finally manage to find an old dirt road leading into a small clearing surrounded by trees.

“This will do.” I mumbled, parking the car.

“This will do? What do you mean, ‘this will do’? You can’t seriously mean we’re sleeping in the dirt?!”

“We won’t be sleeping in the dirt.” I dug through the glove box, finding a tiny blanket. I toss it to him, before settling back in my seat and closing my eyes.

“You- here? You mean we’re sleeping in here? In the car. You can’t be serious?”

I cracked one eye open, peering at him through my long raven hair. “What if I am?”

“But it’s a car!”

“And?”

“Well- you- we can’t- it’s not- grrrrrfhhh….” Frank grumbled to himself, clearly unhappy.

However, less than ten minutes later he’s sleeping like a baby, curled up in the back seat under his itty-bitty blanket. Oddly enough, I find the little pout on his face utterly adorable. I’ve never seen someone look so cute when they frown, even when they’re sleeping. Not even Mikey- and trust me, Mikey was the prettiest baby you’ve ever seen. I still remember it, seeing him all swaddled up and in his crib. He’d reached out for me… He had giggled at the sight of my face. I was only four at the time, but nonetheless I remembered. I remember tucking him in when he was afraid of the boogeyman. I remember taking him to his first day of kindergarten. I remember how proud I was to see him graduate elementary school. I remember the relief I felt when I saw he had made friends in middle school. I remember when he brought his first girlfriend home to meet us. I remember how excited he was to be accepted to the college of his dreams. I even remember thinking I would always protect him. Protect him… See how well that turned out. I hurt him. I stabbed him. For what? I can’t even remember. I honestly don’t understand why he didn’t try to get me put away for life. I think… I think even after I was so violent and cruel… I remember. In his eyes. There was this little, sad sparkle. It said he still loved me. He thought I could do better. He thought it was just a phase. He was… he was only disappointed. And, well. That stung. More than his anger ever could have. Seeing the look in his eyes, it’s a painful memory. It hurts to think about.

I am shaken from my daze by the soft chill that comes through one of the slightly cracked windows. A small shiver slithers down my spine, and with that icy cold snake goes my consciousness.

Notes

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