Chapter Two: Good Cop/Bad Cop

(Tohru)

Dojima's here again. He told me over the phone I'm getting out. My lips twitch into a grin that I try to suppress. Need to look 'better'.

We're sitting at a small table in a room full of people again. Can't he get them to let us go somewhere quieter? I wish their useless voices would shut up so I could hear the details better.

Dojima's going on about the ankle bracelet now. Boring. I'll just get it off. I glance down: my shoes barely tie shut. There's no way they make one small enough. Which reminds me that I need to keep more food down. It's a plus, looking defenseless and aggravating the people who think they're in charge, but I need more energy.

I look up through my messy hair at Dojima. He keeps folding and unfolding his hands, like he can't talk if they're too still. He'll get upset if I reach out.

So I do. I place one of my thin hands over his when he starts to unfold them again.

"...Adachi." He looks sad. Dojima's been so lenient since he started coming here. I usually can't irritate him, which irritates me. "You need to take your hand back. We should look professional," he says in that tired voice. So I squeeze his hand instead.

I can see Dojima holding back a frown. Just yell at me like you used to. He takes my hand and puts it back on my side of the table, like I'm some kind of child. "You're coming home with me. It'll be alright."

I didn't need comfort, idiot.

He smiles tentatively. I push more. I put my hand back and won't let go this time. I can tell my eyes are staring too much. All the other useless people can tell my eyes are laughing at them. Why can't he?

"One of the other murderers told me I have crazy eyes. I told him the voices appreciate the compliment. Then I threatened him with ghosts. Fucking idiot almost pissed himself."

Why don't my eyes scare him?

Dojima's going red, still trying to pry me off. I saw him wince when I said 'other murderers'. He has to be pretending everything's fine; because it can't be. I won't blend in again.

"Adachi—" I start squeezing his hand. "Jeez that hurts!" He didn't know how strong I was. If he's really fine with the way I am, then I'll show him what he's been missing.

"You know I'm not sorry." I hear it come out of me as a hiss.

"Yes, I know—" Dojima. Placating.

"You can't still want me."

Dojima's eyeing the guard in the other side of the room. He's starting to panic. "Yes, I do. Now move your hand, please." What the fuck? I got a 'please'?!

"Yell at me." I glare at Dojima, staring him down.

"No," he snaps. "You need to get off."

I smirk.

"I can't." Dojima grits his teeth. He's sweating. "Feel my fingers, Adachi."

"Call me Tohru, fuckup," I demand.

"Tohru—" He gasps.

I unclamp immediately. "What, am I in charge now?" I lean forward over the table, pressing my luck with the guards.

"Read the papers." Dojima shoves the folder across the table. At least he looks hurt. Not as good as angry, but I guess that's what separates us in here from them out there.

"I know," I roll my eyes. I count off the conditions in singsong. "I can't leave the property unless I get the tracker off, I can't drink, I get the extra room, and I can't talk to Nanako about the kidnapping. Not even apologize." I look down. Do I look like it bothers me?

"I thought you 'weren't sorry'," Dojima challenges me, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not sorry about the murders. I'm not sorry about the chaos. I'm not sorry about lying. I'm not sorry about tricking Namatame. I'm only—" and I emphasize that word stretching is out. "Only sorry that Nanako got involved."

He didn't catch that part about the bracelet.

Dojima rolls his own eyes and checks his watch. "Bring it up with one of the therapists. I don't have time for this. You really want to spend the whole visit arguing." It's not a question.

I widen my eyes, lean back; really put on a show. "What else do we even do?"

He won't meet my eyes again. He's trying not to think about it. I can feel another smile creeping. What a day!

He sees the smile. "Adachi." Warning.

"Well what else do we do?" I give a showy shrug, sitting up straighter. Our relationship wasn't really a relationship until we had to do all this talking. I thought it'd be more fun with him around. I love winding him up till he loses his temper. That's a turn-on.

"Adachi I will go home this time if you put me through another scene like that. I work with some of these people!"

So did I. "Hmm," I start. "The last time was at the hospital before I told you I was the killer. And since then it's been..." I start ticking off months on my fingers.

"Five years!" Dojima breaks in. I throw my fingers all in the air, about to tell him he wins the prize, but he rushes on. "We just have to get along and not kill each other for five years."

Oh. For the new sentence.

"I wouldn't kill you." Shit. I think I mean that.

"Charming." He just keeps his You're-an-Idiot-Adachi face plastered on. I do like that one. I lean over my half of the table, hoping I loom. He thinks I forgot about riling him up.

He pushes my face away. "One. More. Week. Of this. Behave for one week!"

"And you think you like the real me," I leer.

"Shut up, Adachi!"

And I win!

Dojima slaps one of his large hands against his forehead, exasperated.

The buzzer goes off. All the plebs have to leave now, while the rest of us get herded back to the cages. After a long, quiet look at me, Dojima rises, wordless, to head towards the door. I point to a guy two tables over. "Even the rapist gets a hug!" Glares. Lots of 'em.

Dojima looks troubled. You can see it in the way his eyebrows practically touch and he's trying to keep his mouth shut. He says I shouldn't mess with the other prisoners. He turns around and walks away.

"Love yah, sexy!" I holler to be heard over the noise. I swear the room stops. Okay, maybe I haven't gone that far before. I get sick of all these scary, scary men trying to act like the straightest bunch. As a bonus, you can hear Dojima's heart getting ready to explode, the vein about to burst out of his forehead. He doesn't look back. When he's out the door, I hear the rapist call me a faggot. I can feel my mouth curling into another smirk.

At least now I know who's next. I tilt my head exaggeratedly. "You catch that?" I loudly ask the ceiling. My 'neighbors' won't even look at me, but morons from the other blocks aren't afraid of me. Unfortunate for them.

I love a show. And it's not really a ghost.

It's something worse.

#

Back in my cell, I dig the mess of papers out of my pants. Few places people won't go, and no one's happy I get to leave. Jealous.

Never thought I'd like somewhere less than Inaba.

Never thought I'd like Inaba—Period.

But if I could go back to the better days, I could maybe be okay.

Me, Dojima, Nanako.

Me, Ryoutarou, Nanako.

Me, Ryou...

Deep breaths.

I can do this.

By the time I realize I've crumpled the papers, well, it's done. I unclench my fists and smooth them out on my bed.

Rules.

Schedules.

A list of things that didn't sell—Who wants to buy the murderer's bed? Couch? Refrigerator? I can just picture Dojima having a yard sale and no one stopping.

Copies of the stuff I have to sign so I can not-read them.

A letter with the niceties I won't let him say.

I try not to read them. I'm not worth it.

But I stick the letter under the mattress and shove the rest of the papers behind the television. They'll all get taken, what's it matter?

Do I hope no one or everyone knows that I'm back?

Why do I care?

#

"Come drink at my apartment. I bought beer!" That was all it ever took to get Dojima to come over. God he was sad back then. Either working or obsessing over the accident.

Seeing the mess his memories made of his life... I could give him something better to obsess over.

Liquor meant lapses in judgment. Liquor gave me an opportunity to be more of myself while blaming it on being drunk. Liquor gave Dojima something to blame his over-affectionate side on.

I needed someone to pay attention to me.

Yell at me. Rough me up. Crush me so I forget how awful this world is. I always return the favor threefold.

#

The TVs here are all small, but now so am I. After lights out I claw my way inside.

It's pathetic but the only room I could think to conjure was the Dojimas' living room.

Nights aren't so bad.

Note: Re-Edited 5/29/17