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During the last round of patrol I control that all is quite. It’s necessary to admit that this time of the day plays for my benefit: at six in the morning most of the detainees are still sleeping. I look at the wrist-watch and I’m happy to see that I miss a few minutes at the end of my turn. It seems impossible to me that also today I’ve managed to overcome the time spent in here. The night shift is even more unbearable than that of the day. Lack of natural light creates a dummy perception of reality. Without the sun-light inside the structure, the detainees can’t be clearly aware of the passing minutes and hours. They go to bed because we are the ones who tell them to do so.
I pass in front of Matthew’s cell and I can’t help giving a glance. I see him under the cover with his head facing me. His eyes are closed and the breath is quite. Managing to be very silent not to wake him or his comrades up, I approach the bars. I want to look at him while he’s sleeping, not to be trapped by his gaze. Since he kissed me, I had the confirmation that I feel something special for him. Yet is not easy to give name to this feeling. Attraction? Desire? Or something deeper? Whatever it is, I’m convinced that it depends on his charismatic eyes.
I scrutinize every corner of his body. My eyes travel from his brown hair to the biceps tattooed with a tribal design. The head with perfect features rests on the towel he uses as a pillow. It’s impossible in jail to have one. Perhaps it is feared that it can be used to suffocate someone or to hide drug or something else.
I’m so intent looking at Matthew that I don’t even notice the shuffling of steps in the corridor. Only when a peremptory voice comes into my ears, I go away and move to get back to my office.
«Come on out of bed, sleepyhead! Get up!»
«What are you doing still here, Khyla? Your turn ended five minutes ago» says Harry giving me an affectionate punch on the shoulder.
I make one step beyond and answer: «I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll go. Why do you make all this noise to awake the detainees? You’re really disturbing.»
«It’s evident that you’ve been here for a few days. Don’t you know that once a week they have the right to get out on the roof to do exercises? »
«Yard time?»
«Yes. But they are magnanimous and allow them to stay three. »
I stay thoughtful for a moment and then, in a low voice, I comment: «Ok, but why do you wake them up so early in the morning? It doesn’t seems right to me.»
«We do it on purpose. So we have less of them to ward at. At this time many of them prefer to sleep.»
No, I’ don’t agree in using a ploy just to have less responsibilities and to make less fatigue. I’m about to respond properly, when I feel that the words I had in mind seems to fly away. A slight quick contact is enough to provoke in me a sense of alienation from everything. There’s no need for me to turn to understand that he is behind my shoulder. It’s Matthew. How can I be wrong? I would recognize his perfume between one thousand. In fact I see him gathered with a group of detainees, followed by my colleagues.
«Did you want to ask me something? » Harry asks, trying to read my mind.
«Yes. I was saying that I’m going to see how it works. This morning I haven’t much to do. »
Before he could challenge my decision, I move fast along the corridor. I go up on the roof and see that the detainees are running along the perimeter. I sit aside and cross my legs, pretending to observe the entire group, but actually my attention is catalyzed by Matthew. I notice his sure stride during the race, the way he moves his head to throw away the drops of sweat from his forehead and I really would like to touch him, to go on from the point we stopped the other time. I’m frightened by the thought that all this is driving me crazy. Without any doubt Matthew is really a beautiful boy, one of those able to bring you to madness. Besides, with what other word could I explain my feeling for him? Since I met him, he became my fixation, my worrying thought. He is throwing down all the certainty of the grown self-sufficient woman. So I find myself dealing with another Khyla. Just a fragile victim of a passion. Is it possible that this is enough to justify the sense of addiction that he provokes in me? I can’t give a plausible explanation. That is the passion itself to be the master of the situation is evident, but I feel that it’s not the only element, that there’s something deeper that I can’t understand. While I’m trying to give name to my feelings, I’m sure that if I won’t go along with my desires, I’ll soon implode and there will be no more mental health for me. After ten minutes of race, the detainees stop to take a break. Matthew goes on with some exercises, while the others divide into groups to chat. My colleagues are trying to keep the situation under control, but the roof is too large to have a complete sight on all the detainees.
Instead I can’t keep my eyes off from Matthew. After two series of abdominal exercises, he starts to flex as if it was the simplest thing to do. Now it’s clear to me why, although the time spent reading, he has powerful muscles. I think he has innate predisposition for physical activities. At the thought of the kind of activities I would like him to do with me, I go red.
Suddenly the close hum in one of the group transforms in yelled screams. Two Afro-Americans begins to quarrel with a young South-American. Before I or my colleagues realize the gravity of the situation and intervene to calm down the guys, I see Matthew get up and run toward them, putting himself between the quarreling. .
«Stop it! You’re not going to quarrel right now... you know that this is one of the rare opportunities we have to see the sunlight.» he says resolute to one of them pushing the young South-American near my colleagues. At first I look at him admired, and then I concentrate to the two rebels. So I see a strange glint in the belt of the higher one. I’m not wrong: it’s a knife. I call Harry that joined us for a few minutes, and show it to him. He approaches the two guys with another colleague, then handcuff them before they can resist and search them before bringing them back in the cells. All the detainees look astonished at the scene. All but Matthew. This confirms my idea that he too had seen the knife, and this is why he intervened in defending the young South American guy. His heroic gesture fueled even more my painful fantasies. That’s why I decide to go away. It sick’s me to stay a few steps away from him without being able to express all my gratitude... I have to admit, at least to myself, that the experiment to eradicate Matthew from my mind, failed on all the line. I tried to convince myself that I’m the victim of an enchantment from which I could wake up without many negative consequences, but the truth is that Matthew is dear to me from all point of view. I’m attracted by his gaze, his voice, his perfect body that looks as if chiseled by a sculptor. But most of all, after what’s happened today, I’ve got the impression that if I could take away all the mud in which he’s wrapped, I’d find that even his soul is immaculate.
