89' Comanche - Chapter 3
Title: 89' Comanche - Chapter 3
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on characters beloning to Milo Addica and Will Rokos. I make no money from this.
Notes: I love Monster's Ball which is strange since I hated it the first time I saw it. This is how I see Sonny.
Warnings: Just generally depressing. Sorry.
Comments are always appreciated.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m a little queer. Don’t think about fuckin’ guys or nothin’ like that, just that once in awhile I’ll feel something for one of the boys who gets locked up in here. Strange job, bein’ a guard is. You see those boys in ways that no one else has ever seen them. Everyone tries to act like it’s a normal thing but it ain’t. Nothin’ normal about holdin’ a grown man up cus he so scared he can’t bear his own weight anymore. Happened with Lawrence last night. Me and Hank leading him to his holding cell after they shaved his head and gave him his physical. Seemed to be doing all right, then all of a sudden knees just gave out on him. I was moving forward before it even really happened, just had a sense somehow. Took him by the arm and pulled him up before he could hit the ground. He caught himself pretty quick once I had him, but he didn’t let go of my arm. His hand so tight around my wrist it was shakin’. He was walkin’ on his own but his head was down and I knew that if I disappeared, he’d be on the floor. I was staring down at his arm, his muscles straining, the black ink of his tattoos looking muddy against his dark skin, and I knew right then that if Hank wasn’t there he would of pulled me down with him and I would have let him. As it was he wouldn’t let go when we got to his cell. Just stood there, clutching my arm, shaking against me. I turned toward him and rubbed his shoulder, murmuring softly to him, trying to get him to calm down some. Just got worse though. He started shaking harder, leaned his head against my chest, couldn’t get enough air it seemed. I was about to put my arm all the way around him when Hank stepped in. Talked to him calm but forceful, pulled him away from me and backed him right on over to his bunk. I almost followed him in but stopped myself just in time. Hank gave me a funny look when I did that, don’t know what he thought really, could guess though.
Excused myself to the men’s room right afterwards. Went straight into a stall and leaned against the cold metal door, face in my hands. Was shakin’ so bad, heart beating real fast. My whole body was tensed up, felt like electricity was running through my veins. Closest thing I ever felt to that is right before I come, confusin’ as hell. Once I calmed down some I headed back. Hank and me got the watch tonight, couldn’t be away too long, though I’m sure Hank was glad to see me go right then.
When I got back, Hank was sitting right outside the cell, restin’ his head against the wall behind him. He was facing Lawrence, wonder if he was lookin’ at him. I didn’t walk on over, just took a seat down the hall a little bit, next to the security door. No one talks on watches like these. I tried focusing on the shadows that the bars cast along the scuffed up linoleum floor. Slid my chair over a little bit so that my legs fell under those dark lines, made them look trapped. Little later on Phil came in with Lawrence’s tray. Fried chicken, mac’ and cheese, big bowl of ice cream with chocolate sauce and a cherry. My stomach turned just seeing that. Glad it wasn’t my turn to sit right outside the bars, don’t think I could of stood the smell of food just now. It’s so quiet in here. The holding cell is in a separate hall, security door locking it in. Can’t hear anything that’s happening outside of that door when it’s closed. Just the three of us in here. I wish we could talk, wish I could tell him how it is. Finally got Hank sittin’ close by, no one else around, no one but a dead man who’s not gonna say anything anyway. He’s got his own life to think about. Can’t say a word though, wouldn’t be tolerated.
Can hear Lawrence’s pencil scratching at the paper we gave him. Quick, sure strokes, non-stop. He’s real talented, had his drawings taped up to the walls on his cell before we moved him. Always liked to check to see what was new, what he had decided to take down, what he thought was important enough to put up. Wonder where he learned to draw like that. Must be nice to be so good at something that don’t cost nothing. Wonder what he’s drawing now, not much inspiration in here. When I stand up to switch with Hank I see it’s a portrait. Hank’s face staring up from the paper. It’s strange though, can tell it’s Hank from the eyebrows and the jaw but somehow it don’t really look like him. Never seen Lawrence draw something untrue, must be the pressure he’s under, can’t imagine what it feels like. Well maybe I can. He asks me for a cigarette and I give it to him, holding my lighter steady while he breathes in deep.
Taking a seat, I settle in. Gonna be here awhile. Lawrence takes out a fresh piece of paper.
“Would it be alright if I draw you?”
“Yeah, that’d be alright.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Wonder if we could have been friends on the outside. If he hadn’t killed that gas station attendant, if I didn’t wear this uniform. Wonder if we could have gone fishin’ down in the swamps, had beers out on the porch. Probably not, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me think that maybe, maybe we could of. He keeps his eyes on me, hardly ever lookin’ down at his paper. I sit still, just staring ahead into the last place that will hold him. After awhile he puts down his pencil.
“That all done then?” I’m curious to see.
“Yeah, here you go.” He hands me the paper through the bars.
Can’t hardly believe it. Looks just like me, but better somehow. I know that girls think I’m handsome when they first see me, but it never lasts. It’s never long before they start to see what I see, when I look into the mirror.
“Wow, that’s real nice. I don’t look this good in person.” Can’t take my eyes off of that piece of paper.
“I’ve always believed that a portrait captures a person far better than a photograph. It truly takes a human being to see a human being.” He’s sitting on his bunk looking down.
“Thank you.” I hold onto that picture and sit back down in my chair.
“You’re welcome.”
He doesn’t look back up, I wonder if he ever will.