Spin You Around

Home : Stories by Zippit : Because You’re Mine : Spin You Around

Summary: In here, it’s all about knowing when your time’s running out and he knows his is.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
SERIES/SETTING: Because You’re Mine
CHARACTERS: Red, Red POV.
COMPLETED: July 20, 2008
WORDS: 1,223
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize anyone in this piece, I am in no way affiliated with or know them personally. I am neither making a profit nor plan to do so. This is nothing more than an exercise in fiction. This is a result of an overactive imagination and I claim no truth to these words.
BETA: Thanks to Catw00man for the beta. All other errors are mine.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Alright guys, say hello to Red once again. He finally woke up and here’s hoping he’ll stick around long enough to advance this series a lot more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prison Laundry: Los Angeles Corrections Facility

The taste of dirt gets old fast. The taste of processed prison dirt gets old even faster. I haven’t been “touched” in the same way since that one day, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of bastards having fun with the “new meat.” Getting shoved around ain’t my idea of fun. Neither’s wondering when they’ll see through my act but I got to keep it up cause if they see me as nothing more than a southern hick, I ain’t a threat.

But, I ain’t dumb, deaf, or mute.

They all think I haven’t cottoned on to the rules around this place. I scoped out the gangs within two days of being here. Knew within minutes of walking into this place what my “virgin” ass would be worth to them, but still didn’t know enough cause I got fucking jumped the first time I was alone. They all think I’m stupid, but I’ve seen Hawk lurking around, reminding me with his presence of my debt. Still ain’t too sure why he ain’t come to collect yet. I’m sure it’s coming. I can feel the not so friendly eyes on me, wanting my ass for themselves. They’re getting antsy like sharks at the scent of blood and Hawk’s gonna be coming to collect ‘fore too long. Ain’t seen him down in the laundry yet and that could be because of my “bodyguard,” but somehow I ain’t think it’s that easy.

Few days after Hawk got out of solitary’s was when I got shifted over to laundry duty. It ain’t much better than cleanup duty, but I got my nice, friendly, neighborhood shadow protecting me. Can’t complain much, I guess. IDed my two “shadows” a couple hours after they started hulking after me and then joy of joys, one of them even got themselves transferred down here with me. Can’t be much fun. Sweltering heat as we wait for the machines to do their work and you can’t leave the room cause the guards don’t like you wandering. Time it right you can fold one load as one washes and another dries. Doesn’t stave off the damn boredom cause folding ain’t take that long.

Glance over at the big guy a few tables down who’s been assigned as my “bodyguard.” Know he’s a member of Hawk’s crew and it burns I’m stuck under the protection of some guy I’ve barely had any contact with since those desperate moments in that bathroom. I think my bodyguard’s name’s Pretty Tony. Not too damn sure. Hope “Pretty Tony” gets paid well for sacrificing himself to come look after the “fresh fish.”

Walk forward and yank the washer door open when it’s time to load up the dryer, hauling another bag close since the last’s finally empty. Reach in and grab whatever’s on top then stare at the white boxer briefs before shoving them into the washing machine, swiping my hand against the leg of my jumpsuit. Who knows where it’s been? What its owner’s done? Whose blood is smeared into the stitching too faint to be seen?

There’s no telling. Just like I thought I knew ‘bout things in here, but I didn’t. There ain’t enough info out there to really give a picture and it’s those damn things you don’t know that get you killed. The specific things that ain’t gonna be common knowledge even online. The lines that are never crossed, the guards you can and can’t trust, that trust doesn’t exist, and how a single report of you hanging out with someone you ain’t supposed to gets you killed. It’s prison and it’s my life now.

Hop up onto the table and glance ‘round the dimly lit place that looks more like a laundromat than I ‘spected. Door at the front then you got dryers against the walls then rows and rows of washing machines in between. About eight washing machines back to back then tables at either end of the row with a strip of shelving crossing over the top of the machines and another along the back of the tables for detergent and stuff like that. And there ain’t no place you can escape the heat no matter what or if there is they long been claimed by someone that been here longer than me. Back of the room, tucked in the corner where there ain’t no machines, is the store room where all the shit you need for this job is. It’s also got all the marks of being the perfect place to get yourself ass raped. Probably seen plenty of action cause all those others in here ‘cept Pretty Tony, they don’t look like nothing but claimed property.

Slide back on the table to lean ‘gainst the shelf, leaning my arms back on it, my feet still hanging over the edge easy as I watch the tireless rotating of another load in a nearby dryer. It’s bag after bag until the end of the shift. Load one, fold one, load washer, load dryer, over and over until the mind goes blank and you’re drifting between the unreal and the real. It lets the mind wander and not in a good way. I don’t know enough to be thinking about escape routes, plans, trades, nothing. Instead I think about that bathroom, the things they all want to do to me, and the ways I can avoid them in the future. It’s not gonna keep me safe the whole time cause one way or another I’m gonna slip up and someone’s gonna get their crack at the “fresh fish.” All I can do is prep the best I can and hope I exact my own terms on the deal somehow. I’ve gotta live here, gotta learn the rules because this is my world now and I gotta play along.

Guards, prisoners, it ain’t matter because all that matters in here is if you got something they want. Morality’s right out the window. It’s business. Business where you gotta make sure you come out slightly better from a mutually beneficial deal because when you don’t and feelings get hurt, that’s when the killing starts. It’s subtle cause you gotta please two masters: yourself and whoever you’re dealing with. Gotta keep the other guy happy.

I ain’t got much to trade, just my body. I don’t think I’m ready for that big a step yet, content to just watch and see what all happens around me. Never thought about it much, even right before coming in. It wasn’t gonna happen to me. Know I eventually gotta. It’s the first step to gaining power and there’s no way I’m gonna be in here powerless for however long I hafta. There’s another way, an alliance with someone, but who’s gonna align with the newbie?

There’s other things, things I don’t know. Things I won’t ever know unless someone tells me. I need to figure ‘em out. Key to my survival, without them, I’m only evading the inevitable. You never expect to think as much as you do. Not even my first full month and I’m thinking all crazy sorts of things. Things I hadn’t thought about in years and things from the lives of what could’ve been. It’s a head rush and the deepest depression at the same time. Or maybe that’s just me.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Zippit - zippit@cryptoffic.com