Aaron, I know you didn't expect to hear from me and I am surprised at myself for doing this. I would like to come and visit you, I have no idea of my reasoning and I have no intention of being hostile.
I would really appreciate it if you would give me a small bit of your time.
Jackson.
Aaron read the letter a third time. He let out a jagged breath and clutched his head as he bent over in his chair. What the hell was this all about? Why would Jackson want to contact him? He'd hit him, called him vile names and rejected his help. He folded up the letter and shoved it into his pocket, only to pull it out to read again. He felt his heartbeat increase as a horrible sense of desire filled him.
Aaron had worked so hard to forget about Jackson, to fight the images flashing through his mind. It hurt and it was a struggle. That kiss, in particular, that kiss, the beginning of his downfall. Jackson's hands on his cheek, the small smile on his face, right before he leaned in and planted that soft, chaste kiss on his lips. Aaron could still feel it, along with the giddy emotions of being like that, with another man, after he had denied himself for so long. Sometimes, when he was feeling alone, he'd think of it. Sometimes, during the long nights on his top bunk, that feeling would leak into his dreams. Sometimes, it made him want to move his hand lower as he showered, the hot jets of water coursing over his body, the memory of the intensity in that kiss on his mind. Sometimes, but then he'd remember where he was.
Angry with himself, Aaron quickly began tearing the letter up. He was stopped by a hand. Looking up, he saw it was Daniels'. He was wearing that all-encompassing grin of his as he snatched at the letter. Aaron scrambled for it but missed. "What you got here, Livesy?"
"Nothing."
Daniels grabbed a chair and twisted it until it was the wrong way round, he dropped down, long legs stretched out either side and lent against the back. His eyes swept down Aaron's form until they rested on the page. He didn't say a word as he read. "Nothing, looks like a letter." Panic overwhelmed Aaron, he froze, scared beyond belief at what Daniels would gleam from those words. Would he understand the weight and the history? Maybe he'd noticed the desire in Aaron only moments earlier, understand the effect that this simple three-line letter had on him. Would he realise he was a gay man? Would this be the catalyst that increased Daniels' attention?
"So, is that his first or last name?" Aaron blinked, "What?"
"Jackson, first or last?"
"First."
"Ahh," Daniels folded up the letter. It was harder now, having been ripped. He fumbled slightly, struggling to use the existing creases and handed it back, an apologetic expression gracing his feature. "Any chance he was named after Jackson Pollock?"
"What?" Aaron took the letter and quickly put it back in his pocket. Daniels shuffled his chair forward, closing the gap between them. At this level, they were the same height, for the first time Aaron was looking directly into Daniels' eyes.
"Jackson Pollock."
"Who?"
Daniels snorted, gently amused, "you kids today. Jackson Pollock, he was an artist," he tilted his head and smiled, "he used to drip paint all over his canvases. Apparently, it was all about expression through the marks he made as opposed to the conventional artists, who created a message from representation, be it exact or abstract. "
Aaron couldn't think, couldn't function, here was Daniels, striking up conversation with him, like two old friends exchanging ideas. "What?"
"Yeah, I know, fucking dumb, huh?" He sniffed hard and stared at Aaron. "So I saw what you did to Simmons' face last week, if you ask me, it looks better. I like the feisty you. Do you fancy finishing the job? "
Aaron couldn't keep up. He looked around the room, not sure what he hoped to find. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Livesy," Daniels grinned at him again, his smile slowly curling outwards, "we've got a situation on our hands. Simmons is bringing in crack cut with all kinds of nasty shit, it's grounded a few people permanently – if you know what I mean." A guard walked past and Daniels stopped, he turned his head and Aaron studied him in profile. "Now," he leaned closer, stopping inches from Aaron and lowered his voice, "I don't give a shit about bodies building up, but I do have an issue when guards start looking a lot closer at us. It prevents other enterprising activities..."
"You want me to help you?"
"Yeah, I figured him simulating oral sex with your mouth might be good motivation."
"You hate me."
Daniels laughed, he brought his elbow up onto the chair back and rested his head in his hand, "I don't hate anyone. Spending your life hating is a fucking waste of a life." Aaron didn't respond.
"No, not interested? Ah well, it was just a thought."
Later that day, Aaron watched Daniels and Stalk deep in conversation, their words were concentrated and measured, nothing like the previous confrontations he'd witnessed. He saw them leave together, looking around the room as they did and come back fifteen minutes later. A few guards came running in soon after. Simmons had been found in the laundry room, both his arms and legs broken. Daniels had obviously found the help he needed.
In that moment, Aaron started laughing - Daniels and Stalk, the great enemies, joining forces. He thought he understood the rules, thought he knew who was what and where to go when. He didn't.
The only thing he realised in that moment was there were no rules. He laughed so hard, he cried.
The tables were small and square, wooden tops on metal legs, and the chairs were blue and plastic, both reminiscent of the ones from a school. In the room, they were neatly lined, perfectly straight, twenty all together and in each sat an individual marked out by the bright orange bib that the rules required them to wear. Chastity Dingle was sitting across from her son, smiling that usual pained grin she had. It wasn't because she was out of her depth, that she found herself in an intimidating environment. No, Aaron was not the first person she had visited in prison. It was, in fact, because she was so scared for her vulnerable son. She was wary of his behaviour, and anxious at his appearance.
"You've lost weight since I last saw you." Aaron kept low in his chair, he wasn't quite looking at her. "Are you eating?"
She licked her lips and waited, "Aaron." His eyes shot back towards her but she couldn't keep his attention. "What are you looking at?" She moved to turn around only to feel Aaron's hand on her arm, it stopped her. "Sorry, don't mind me."
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," Aaron's smile was tight. Chastity stared at him, noting his paler colour, and his neck that looked slender than she remembered. He'd only been in for a month and his appearance suggested that he wasn't looking after himself. "Adam said last week that you seemed really down."
"No." Aaron shook his head. His eyes minutely glanced behind her again. This time Chastity did turn around but it wasn't obvious who or what he was looking at. They were three rows from the wall and each row contained an inmate with relatives or friends. Her eyes fell on the man behind her on their right. He had short ginger hair, and a handsome, chiselled face. He was broad, with defined firm arms and was holding the hand of a blonde, whose face Chastity couldn't see. She turned back to Aaron and noted his wide eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Here Livesy, please feel free to join me." A chair was kicked out from beneath the table. Daniels' gesture was polite, that of an acquaintance bumped into at a restaurant. Aaron hesitated, not quite sure. He didn't want to get within seeing distance of the other man let alone at his table, but the conversation they'd had the other day seemed to be the beginning of the end of his torment and Aaron wanted to avoid anything that would ignite things. He sat down, carefully, placing his food tray in front, being watched with that constant grin. The menu this lunch time was beans on toast, Aaron picked up his cutlery.
"So, who was that woman who came to see you today?"
Aaron paused, he stared at Daniels, "That was my mum."
Daniels picked up an apple and bit down obnoxiously, after a few bites, he spat out a pip. "She was hot, she had great tits. She looked straight at me, couldn't help herself, I guess. Can I fuck her?"
"Stay away from her."
"Why? You're not fucking her are you? Cause that's just sick."
Aaron didn't have even a single memory of those split seconds before he launched himself across the table. He didn't know what he was thinking, didn't know if he'd attempted to justify what he was about to do, or wonder at the consequences at his actions. His awareness came as their food trays splayed over the table and the crowd in the canteen went wild. Two sets of hands then pulled him away, and Daniels' smile never left his face.
When Aaron punched Simmons, he'd avoided isolation because it was his first offence, and up until then, he'd been a model inmate. He was not so lucky this time. Isolation was a nine-foot square room with exposed brick and a tiny, high window. There was a toilet and a bed and a solid door, which prevented sound going in or out. Aaron didn't think it was that different from his cell. The point of isolation was to think about your recent transgressions, to realise the mistakes you've made without the distraction of everyday life. It was also designed to make you realise how much it sucked to be alone and that maybe you should embrace your fellow inmates instead of attacking them. Those left down there for weeks often came back slightly reformed, quieter and more thoughtful – not that it lasted. Those whose sentence, like Aaron's, was twenty-four hours, came back no different. Except Aaron maybe, because Aaron spent those long hours conjuring images of Daniels' retaliation, making himself sick with worry over his mother's next visit, and feeling like he couldn't continue.
By the last hour, Aaron was like a caged animal, bouncing himself off the walls, walking round and round, and disorientating himself. He came up with ludicrous after absurd ideas and didn't know his front from his back. The guards released him, warily aware of his behaviour but Aaron didn't care. He stormed back to his unit, barely containing himself as the guards let him through barred doors, one after the other, down one corridor and the next. Goldie was reading a book as he approached, "Where's Daniels?" Aaron's nostrils flared.
"Why, what you gonna do?"
"Where the fuck is he?"
"I don't know." Something in Aaron had snapped, he had enough, didn't want to play anymore, couldn't spend the next five months being a ball of string to Daniels' cat. He stormed away from Goldie, the other man calling out his name. He checked Daniels' cell, the top level observation point, and the TV room. Daniels wasn't to be found. This was going to be it, the end, today. He was going to kill Daniels or be killed, Aaron didn't care which. He carried on walking, checking fervently, looking confrontationally into the eyes of every one he met. Aaron paused when he saw the top of Daniels' head through the laundry room window. He was behind the washing machines, next to a tumble dryer and almost completely hidden by a locker. Aaron gritted his teeth, felt himself out of control with rage and without hesitating, threw open the door.
Aaron stopped short. He blinked, his mouth hanging open. Inside the room, hand leaning against the wall, casual as he'd ever see him, was Daniels. His head was tilted back, his eyes tightly closed, his other hand resting on a head. The head belonged to a man kneeling down in front of him, a man whose mouth was wrapped around Daniels' penis.
Before Aaron knew what was happening, Daniels had pushed the man away and advanced on him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the wall. He hissed sharply against Aaron's ear, "You didn't see anything." Fingers pressed into his jugular. Daniels was standing, his full weight in use, his trousers and underwear around his ankles, his erection still full. "You didn't see anything." Aaron clawed at the hands holding him firm. He spluttered and choked, his feet left the ground and his vision darkened. He became light-headed, a feeling of dissociation washing over him as Daniels' face wavered in front. "You didn't see anything." Aaron nodded his agreement. He was dropped to the floor and gasped, clutching at his throat.
"Now fuck off, and don't ever ruin my blow job again."
