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My feet drug over to a bench. Or maybe it was a cot. Two chains extended from the wall and held it parallel with the floor. I collapsed down on the worn vinyl that covered a thin layer of cushion on top of it.
I wonder how long I have until work finds out.
Not that it could get much worse. Ever since Jessica fucked Austin, Solidarity felt like a prison.
“What are you in for?”
A grungy voice came through the bars from the darkness in the cell next door. My head hung like an anvil that my neck and aching body struggled to hold up, but I turned it to look in the voice's direction.
“Huh?”
A skinny man with bloodshot eyes and dirty face emerged from the shadows and approached the bars.
“How did you end up here?”
My head fell.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
He pressed with his raspy voice.
“Man, we all done bad shit. That’s why we’re here. You keep that inside, you’ll lose your mind. And that’s all you got now.”
I expelled a “that’s just great” puff of air, shaking my head.
“This sucks.”
The stranger chuckled.
“Yeah, it does, but betta make the most of it. Whatever you had out there, that’s fucked now.”
“You really know how to cheer a guy up.”
“Must be your first time.”
I forced myself to stand and walk over to the door of my cell, putting my hands on the cold bars. My eyes peered out through them at dimly lit halls.
“Yeah, I never dreamed I’d be in here.”
“So, what happened, man?”
Guess I’ve got nothing else to lose.
My eyes stared into space as I answered him.
“I got caught masturbating in a car.”
The stranger burst into laughter.
“Holy shit, dude.”
My lips mumbled words in a flat tone.
“I was in my old neighborhood, outside my house.”
“What were you doing outside the house? You live there, don’t you?”
I pushed out a heavy breath.
“I did. Until my wife cheated on me...”
“Oh, damn, dude.”
“With my boss.”
“What the fuck! That’s cold, dude. I would have killed that bitch.”
Wow, these are the kinda people I’ll be talking to now.
“Yeah, she can be cold.”
I turned around and leaned my back up against the bars.
“She lost her job. I tried to take advantage of that. Paid her money to act like a whore and do whatever I wanted.”
My head dropped, and my foot brushed the floor.
“That felt good until she got a job. Then I lost all the power again.”
“This chick sounds like she needs a good beating.”
I lifted my head and scowled at him.
“Are you being serious?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Works for me, man.”
I shook my head and dropped it again, staring at the floor. This was the sort of man that raised Jessica. I thought about the flogger I used to whip her.
“Well, I tried that. Got me nowhere.”
“You just didn’t hit her hard enough, man.”
My stomach turned. My strokes stung her skin, but I spared her soul. I never unleashed my anger. No matter how angry she made me, I couldn’t do that to her.
“Can we change the subject?”
“Sure, buddy. So, what was your hustle before you wound up here?”
“My hustle?”
“Yeah, bro. How did you make bank?”
“Oh, you mean my work?”
“Yeah, bro.”
“Well, I worked at an insurance company for twenty years. Started at the bottom. Worked my way up. Made Senior Accountant.”
“Wow, fancy title.”
My eyes widened in a blank stare at the ground as my head bobbled with my heavy exhale.
“Yeah, that job meant a lot to me.”
“Until your bitch fucked your boss?”
I furrowed my eyebrows as I cut my eyes at him.
“Can you not call her that?”
“Hey, bro, I’m just calling it like I see it.”
I turned back around to look out through the bars.
“I slaved half my life away at that job. Now, they all think I’m a joke.”
I pictured Austin, Brandy, and Candice in his office, all laughing at the news of my arrest. My nostrils flared, and my hands gripped the bars. In my mind, my desk sat vacant, collecting juvenile trinkets to mock my penis size. The surface, a memorial to Jessica’s betrayal. The desk I labored at for years. Where I made most of my greatest professional achievements. Turned into another broken pile of dirt at the hands of bullies. My cheeks flushed with heat.
Jessica did this to me.
I pushed off the bars and turned, stomping back over to the bench. With both my weight and my anger, I thrust my hands into the thin cushion on top of it.
Wham!
The chains rattled.
“Bro, you keep that up, and the warden’s gonna be in here up your ass. You won’t like that. Trust me.”
The worn vinyl and padding veiled the toughness of the bench underneath my knuckles. I lifted my fist against and let it float down to rest on the padded bench. They felt familiar. My eyes widened, and I whispered.
“Unbreakable.”
“What’d you say, man?”
The childhood conversation with my Dad cut like a light through the darkness of the cell. My life flashed before me. Beatings that I got back up from. Physical and emotional ones.
“I’m unbreakable.”
The stranger chuckled and started to speak, but I put my hand up to stop him. I stood and looked through the frosted glass window at the eerie light coming from outside.
“I used to go to the gym.”
My left hand wrapped around the knuckles of my right. The memory of sensations from rounds at the bag flooded my mind.
“I used to spend hours at a punching bag, and I never knew why I liked them so much. Why I could spend hours just hitting them.”
“Well, I know hitting stuff makes me feel better.”
I rolled my eyes.
This guy.
“Those bags are unbreakable. You can punch them over and over. Punch them hard. They can take it.”
My dad’s words now echoed in my mind.
“You just gotta get a handle on what’s in here. Nothing they do or say can hurt you if you do that. You have all the power, son.”
I walked back over to the bench, leaned over, and placed my fists against the cushion.
“Don’t punch it again. I mean, I get it, dude, but you don’t want the warden...”
“I gotta get out of here.”
He laughed.
“Don’t we all.”
I turned and looked at him.
“No, I will get out of here. I don’t know how. But I will.”
I’m the son of a Stroker.
