In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream
It's time for another Oz Drabble Tree! This is our 6th drabble tree! If you're new to this, check out: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble Tree That Could, Are You There God? It's Oz Drabble Tree and Oz Drabble Tree Knows Best
( The Rules )
( The Rules )
He stands well behind the yellow crime tape, ignores the news crews, and tries to tell himself that he’ll rebuild this, too. Find the right programs, the right mix of prisoners…
He doesn’t know Sean is there until the hand touches his arm.
The simple touch sends a shiver down his spine, a quickening in his chest that he can’t even try to pretend he doesn’t feel.
Anyway, Tim is tired of pretending.
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Diane just nods. It's been so long since she's heard anything from Dee-Dee but sorrow, and she thinks she might cry if she tries to speak.
The guards outside the gates are still, but she catches a hint of a smile on one of their faces as Dee-Dee chatters happily about being a princess and living in castles. It's probably just some over-tuned maternal instinct, but Diane catches his eye and smiles back.
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“This is nice,” Tim says.
Sean shrugs. “It ain’t exactly Buckingham Palace, but I like it ( ... )
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"You sure?" Sean asks, eyeing the sofa, still breathing a little heavy. Tim should have accepted it when his old one got tossed during clean-up, taken it as a sign and moved on. "You don't think it's too -" fucking tempting "- informal?" Though maybe, he thinks, he should have asked that before they hauled it through the mostly-empty prison and up the stairs. "You're gonna have half the staff in this place hangin' out up here, drinking your coffee, getting in your way ( ... )
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Toby glanced around furtively, made sure no one was nearby before he took a healthy swig. The whiskey burned going down, did nothing to ease the constant ache in his gut. He licked his lips, savouring the taste. Savoured the memories more.
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Strangely, he sees everything a lot more clearly now, including himself.
The rage simmers inside him like something alive, and when he sees Vern in the gym he lets it boil over. Taking a crap has never felt so fucking… satisfying.
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It started when they got back to his apartment after all day at the set. Chris had been laughing at something as he took off his jacket, and Lee grabbed his camera and took a picture. Chris had blinked in surprise, amusement still quirking his mouth, and Lee had taken another.
And another.
And another.
Until they'd ended up here, on the couch, Lee kneeling at one end and Chris sprawled out at the other, gloriously naked and leaning back on his elbows, knees bent...
He crawls forward, straddling Chris' hips, bracing himself with one hand on Chris' chest and the other holding the camera up high, pointed down at the two of them. Click!
"Lee," Chris growls, and Lee takes another picture. "Put the camera away."
Opening his mouth to protest, Lee pauses as Chris lifts his hips while pushing Lee's down. "Okay," he says, a little breathlessly, and reaches down to set the camera on the floor.
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“You were definitely better looking at that age. That’s for sure. Now, look at you, it’s a wonder you can get laid on a given weekend.”
“I just tell ‘em that you’re off the market.”
“Dream on. I’m never gonna be off the market. So, why do you wish you were four?”
“Everything was a lot simpler then.”
“Yeah, you.”
“Shut the fuck up. We didn’t have to get dressed up for shit like this.”
“Remember Uncle Ned?”
“That bastard.”
“I thought Aunt Brenda would never stop crying. You ready, Cyril?”
“Yeah.”
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They didn’t always get along and there were days, when an argument rattled the confines of her brain, when she wondered if she really knew the man she had sworn to love and honour for the rest of their lives. But then she’d see that flash of familiarity in his expression right before they made up when she knew any doubts were groundless.
Life in Oz is forever an uphill battle. Every day she walks through the gates and meets with men fated within those walls. She can’t help but look back on her married years and think everything was a lot simpler then. Here every conversation is a manipulation, a confession, a plea, and a death sentence.
She’d never admit it out loud, but it was easier when Christ-God-was more of an abstract notion in her life.
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Beecher slammed out of the pod, ignoring the stares of the inmates. “Go fuck yourself!” he shouted over his shoulder as he stalked away.
Rebadow raised a brow. “Quite the argument,” he said.
O’Reily sidled up to Keller, leaned against the glass. “What the fuck was that about?”
Keller scrubbed a hand over his jaw, mentally reviewed the day’s events. Finally he shrugged. “No fucking idea,” he said. He glanced at O’Reily. “Game of chess?”
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“What you call me, asshole?” The smile on Eddie Drake’s handsome face was feral and dangerous as he watched blood pour from the junkie’s nose.
“You gonna let him do that? Police brutality is gonna make me rich. Jus’ wait 'til I talk to a lawyer,” was wheezed out as the man desperately tried to wipe his face with his dirty shirt, his scraggly red hair swinging from side to side.
“What make you think you’re going to live long enough to call one. Take a walk, El--You were never here,” Marshal Drake threw over his shoulder as he advanced on Fin’s informant ( ... )
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Instead, he clenches his fists and tries to remember patience.
He’ll get up, get dressed, stand for count. Spend another day watching Beecher warily and gritting his teeth over an ache he can’t soothe.
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He’s lost so much - his baby, his grandfather, his girlfriend, El Norte and his hermanos, his chance at parole, hell, he even lost his sanity - more than once. Then Alonzo’s empire collapsed like a house of cards, leaving nothing behind but the agonies of withdrawal and yet another aching loss. If Ryan hadn’t been there to pull him out of the wreckage, he doesn’t know where he’d be now. But here he is, lying in his bunk, with Ryan’s warm body draped over his. He’s lost so much in his life - he’s not letting go of this, no matter what.
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The high and mighty Kareem Said plummeted to earth.
He feels their laughter, mocking the changing of the guard he had no say in. They question and ridicule with cruel delight his utter torment.
His own brothers have cast him out on the words of Hamid Khan; Iago dripping poisonous words into wilful ears.
He is...done for.
But there is one face-Beecher-that looks upon his with such affection and concern it nearly breaks his heart. He clings to it greedily and knows he is not alone in this abject darkness. Once upon a time Allah had seen fit to guide Beecher his way. Said had thought it was for Beecher’s good. Now he knows Allah was preparing him for this moment as well, granting him a confidante, gifting him with a kindred soul.
This is a test.
He is human, yes; he must never forget this lesson. And he must prove to himself (and those who turned their backs) that he is a chosen person-humbled and awed at the will of Allah’s mercy. He is not letting go of this.Instead he is looking up at ( ... )
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It was the day of judgment. Bunch of rich bastards with nothing better to do playing God and laying out every single one of his sins. Redemption was useless. There was nothing left to do, no one left to fight. He’d die in Oz.
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