I step out of my cell, falling into line behind the row of prisoner's obediently making their way out of GenPop and into the yard. I glance over the fluorescent yellow railings to see the C.O's beneath us herding everyone out through the doors like cattle. I spot T-Bag, stepping out to join the formation, before a C.O shakes his head, ushering him back into his cell. I am confused as I descend the stairs, everyone is let out for yard time simultaneously, the only exception being prisoner's in ad-seg. I glance into T-Bag's cell as I file past, and I meet his eyes. I shoot him a questioning look as I march slowly along, and he shrugs, unable to explain his sudden exclusion. I frown and direct my eyes forward. My immediate suspicion is that it has something to do with the escape, but from his confusion and the fact he's the only member of our little shawshank gang to get singled out I start to doubt it.
As I walk out onto the grassy pitch, I hesitate, stepping to the side and glancing back at the prison. I decide to wait. I decide that whatever resulted in T-Bag's segregation could not be good, for him or for the group, and that my curiosity and anxiety have to be sated.
"Hey," I hear a deep voice calling me as I lean against the wire mesh fence next to the door, and I turn my head to see Abruzzi approaching, "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for T-Bag. Do you know what happened? Why they're holding him back?" Immediately Abruzzi glances down to his feet, and I realise he knows something, "Has it got anything to do with the escape?"
"It ain't important." Abruzzi tells me, but there's a hint of guilt in his voice and my heart plummets.
"What's happened?" I growl, in an almost threatening manner.
"Let's just say I took care of our little problem," he sighs with a shrug.
"What have you done?!" I hiss, stepping closer to him. The man is twice my size, with labyrinthian connections throughout the prison. But I do not care, not with this sick feeling in my gut, "There's no need to hurt T-Bag, I said I'd opt out if you needed someone to."
"He's not getting hurt," Abruzzi says with a roll of his eyes, as if it is out of character for him to organise a shanking, "and what the hell were you playing at trying to sit this out? You need this more than any of us, once I'm over that wall how long do you think you're going to last in here by yourself?"
"I don't care, you ever think that maybe I don't want to last?" I spit, watching his face crumble. I inhale sharply, turning back to the prison, seeing the door open, "What did you do?"
T-Bag appears through the door, and from this distance I cannot see his face, "Let's just say there ain't nobody on the other side of that wall to pick up his calls anymore." He murmurs, before turning on his heel and walking briskly away. I watch as T-Bag approaches the wire mesh fence, and then I see it. His red eyes, the skin on his cheeks stained with tears, he has been crying.
The gate swings open, he steps out onto the grass and I rush forward, "T-Bag," I cry out as he turns to face me, wiping his hand on his sodden cheek, "What happened?"
"Mind your own business," T-bag spits out, pushing roughly past me, his shoulders striking against mine. I stagger backwards, but grit my teeth, walking purposefully after him.
"T-" I start shouting, and he abruptly stops in his stride, turning swiftly around. His face was painted with hatred.
"What do you want, Ray? You want to be my friend? You want to act like you don't see me as the same disposable parasite that the rest of them see? Or are you just lookin' for another sucker to pick up after you?" His words catch me off guard and I part my lips, rapidly searching for some way to reply to him. He sneers, shaking his head, and I feel myself soften.
"I just wanted to see if you're okay." I admit, and the voice that travels past my lips is my own. I hear it, and it rings in my ears, the softness, the gentle lilt of my tone, my sincerity betraying my identity. I watch as T-Bag's brow furrows, and I feel heat travel up my neck to my face. The hatred is gone from his face and it is replaced with confusion, with intrigue. He reaches forward and cups the side of my face, the palm of his hand nestled on my cheek, his thumb running along the ridge of my cheekbone, before brushing against my lower lip.
I inhale sharply and pull his hand away, taking a step back, my panic evident. He grins, broad and sincere, and shakes his head, "I'll be okay, Ray-na," he says gently, but all I can hear is malice, "I'll be perfectly okay now."
There is a chill in the wind, and my gloved hands are clutched around the wooden handle of a rake as I glance up around the yard. Today's P.I assignment is maintenance based, tidy up the hedges that grow along the prison and clean up afterwards. I miss the guard's room, the shelter, the warmth. Even with a beanie hat pulled down over my ears and my jumpsuit zipped up to my chin I can still feel the cold seeping through to my bones.
"Ray-na," I glance up to see T-Bag approaching, struggling with two large bags full of hedge clippings. I feel my muscles tighten slightly, I had not spoken to him since the other day, since my slip up, since I shrugged it off and sprinted in the other direction. My eyes immediately search for Abruzzi, for security, but he's out of sight. "Help me with these, will ya?" T-Bag grunts as he steps over to me.
I nod, and reach out, picking up the bag of leaves in my arms and falling into step beside him. We walk across the grass that separates two storage buildings, one with a large bin and a pile of several leaf filled bags next to it. "Put it there," T-Bag instructs, pointing towards the pile. I nod, walking over to it and throwing the bag gently onto the rest.
I don't have time to react whenever I feel the grip on my upper arm, and I look up in time to see that it is T-Bag who is pulling me, bundling me in through the door of the storage room roughly, sending me stumbling as he pushes me away from the entrance, the door slamming shut behind him with a heavy 'clang'.
"What the hell!?" I spit out as I straighten up, annoyance in my voice and on my face. T-bag stands in front of the door, a grin growing towards each ear.
"We need to talk Ray-na." He tells me.
"And it couldn't have waited?" I growl, rubbing my arm. He doesn't seem to have heard me, instead he steps forward, and flexes his head from side to side, a loud crack erupting from his neck.
"You ain't been completely honest with me, now, have you?" He asks. I grit my teeth, taking a step backwards.
"What are you trying to get at?" I am playing dumb, but I can feel it. He knows, he knew the moment that I let my facade slip, he knew the moment my real voice passed my lips.
"I mean you've been keeping secrets."
"We all have secrets." I whisper, and he laughs, nodding in agreement.
"That we do." He sighs as he reaches around to his back. I hold my breath, and as his hand reappears my fears are confirmed. The shank glistens in the light that streams through the window and I clear my throat uneasily, "Now, Ray-na, you're gonna do what you're told. 'Cause, me and you, we're friends, right?"
"Best fucking pals." I growl sarcastically. I can tell from the jovial grin on his lips he is finding my fear and anger amusing, and I cannot blame him, not when he's got the upper hand.
"Here's what you're gonna do, and if you don't do what you're told I'm gonna stick this thing right in that pretty face of yours," He tells me, holding the shank out towards me, "Would be such a shame, now, wouldn't it? Now, all you gotta do is take off those clothes."
I raise my eyebrows and inhale sharply, not moving, just staring in disbelief. He tightens his grip on the shank and nods, as if encouraging me, as if what he's asking me to do is acceptable. I clear my throat, taking another step backwards, my eyes searching for an escape route.
"You need a little help?" T-Bag groans, rushing over to me suddenly. He grabs me by the collar, pulling the zip of my jumpsuit all the way down. Immediately I panic and struggle, tearing myself out of his grasp, hearing the material rip, staring at him with eyes filled with betrayal.
"Fine," my voice is deep and gutteral, nothing by resentment seeping through. I pull the jumpsuit off my shoulders, shaking it off and stepping out of it, tossing it to one side. I exhale slowly, glancing down at my prison issued white t-shirt and trousers, my eyes travelling back to T-Bag as if hoping for a pardon, as if he would tell me it's okay, it doesn't matter. Instead he licks his lower lip, and I know there is no turning back.
I reach down, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt, and I shut my eyes. With one swift pull it is up over my head and the cool autumn air hits my skin. I can hear T-Bag laugh with delight, and for a second I refuse to open my eyes to see myself exposed, to see the glee on his face. Eventually I summon the courage, and I glance down at myself. My skin is bare with the exception of the tightly bound material around my breasts, masking my true figure and femininity.
"Well ain't you just full of surprises," T-Bag murmurs, his eyes feeding hungrily on my exposed flesh. He steps towards me and I don't move, I don't even flinch.
"Was I that obvious?" I sigh. He shrugs, continuing to study my figure.
"You can only hide your true nature for so long, trust me," He explains, "Eventually something will come along to make you slip."
"So what now?" I ask. T-Bag straightens up and finally returns his gaze to my eyes.
"I'm afraid you ain't gonna be able to walk out of here." He tells me. I don't react, I can't, my worst nightmare has come true and I've resigned myself to whatever it may bring.
"And why's that?" I ask as he steps even closer to me.
"Well, a little lady like you in a big, bad place like this? You ain't in here for no reason." T-Bag explains, "What are you, FBI?"
"Excuse me?!" I laugh, I cannot help it, and T-Bag does not appreciate this. He raises his shank so it rests against the curve of my throat.
"That's why you got so chummy with Abruzzi, that's why you weren't worried about goin' through with the escape. You're only in here until your boss says you can leave. You're lookin' some dirt on the mob, but I doubt that you're likely to keep this little escape of ours a secret, got a duty and all that." T-Bag explains, and the grin on my face grows. I laugh once again, shaking my head.
"I'm no special agent."
"Bullshit."
"I told you why I was here, that hasn't changed just because now you know I have tits," I tell him, he is clearly skeptical, and he inches closer, his face almost touching mine.
"Why ain't you in the women's prison then?" T-Bag asks, and the smile leaves my face, "Why'd you get thrown in here?"
"It was the only choice I had," I mumble under my breath, glancing down at my feet, remembering.
My hands were shaking from the cold as I raised my keys, the rings rattling gently against each other, and slid them into the lock on the front door. I twisted them, feeling the door give way, and pulled them out, tucking them gently into the school bag which was strung over one shoulder.
My house was small and sat on the corner of a suburban street, it was a relatively quiet neighbourhood, filled with families who spent their times shipping their children from their white picket-fenced home to football practice, or dance lessons, or whatever kids were into these days. Our family had fit perfectly into that design, into that cookie-cutter set up, but only until my sister hit puberty. From then on it had been a slow descent into torment. A mother unable to cope, a father drinking the pain away, and a sister killing herself slowly with any substance she could ingest, snort or inject.
When I came home that day two things greeted me as I stepped over the front door. The first was silence, and the second was the image of a house torn apart. It was a mess, it was chaos, there were turned over tables and drawers, any piece of furniture had been opened, gutted and tossed aside. As I walked down the hall and turned into the living room I saw the cushions ripped open, papers that had once been tucked away neatly in drawers suddenly littered the ground. The TV was still there, the place had been ransacked but nothing seemed to have been stolen.
And then I heard it, the sound of clattering in the kitchen, and immediately I ran through the door to see what had happened.
There, tearing through the drawers of cutlery and the cupboards full of cereal and pasta, was my sister Mai. She was thinner than the last time I'd seen her, and her hair was now a garish platinum blonde that had clearly been a home job. She swung around when she heard my footsteps on the tile, and I got a full view of her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.
"Mai," I whispered her name and rushed over to her, "What's happened?! Are you okay?"
"Where does mom keep the keys?" She asked, "She's moved them, they used to be by the door, now they're gone."
"Mai," I repeat her name, hoping for a more coherent reaction, "Where have you been?"
My sister had disappeared several months previous when my mother had demanded that she reign in her behaviour, that she cease her late nights, her hungover days, her constant physical and verbal abuse. Not that she'd really been living with us anyway, it had got to the point where we'd have been lucky to see her once a week. Now, seeing her skeletal, manic and unkempt, it's apparent she's gotten worse. It's apparent she's been spiralling.
"Around, just around." She mumbles, and as she pulls open another cupboard door she lets out a loud, frustrated yelp, "the fucking bitch has hid them on me."
"Why do you need the keys, Mai?" I asked cautiously.
"I need the keys because I need the car." She told me, "And I need the car 'cause I've a guy who'll give me a good price for it."
"Mom has the keys for the car, she's not going to let you sell it." I explained. Mai shrugged.
"She didn't have them on her." She said as she pulled out pots and pans, the metal striking against the work top. I felt a sickening feeling bubbling in my stomach, and I cleared my throat.
"Where's mom?"
"Stupid bitch cut me off, wouldn't even give me her keys." Mai mumbled. I took a step backwards, and my eyes travel the room.
"MOM!" I called desperately, "Mai where the hell is mom?"
"She's over there," Mai told me with disinterest as she moved her attention onto the larder. I glanced in the direction that Mai had gestured in, and slowly stepped towards it. As I skirted the table I felt my world crash down around me, I felt the air leave my lungs, I felt my heart stop beating. As I stepped over the first thing I saw was her feet, still in a pair of boots she'd bought the previous week as a treat to herself, as I got closer I could see the blood stains on her skirt and her shirt, blossoming like grotesque flowers that didn't fit in with the pattern. As I stopped beside her I could see the face of my mother, slack and pale wit her eyes shut.
"Mai what have you done?!" I whispered under my breath, in complete shock, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I turned around to see her reaching for the top shelf, the loose fitting football jersey she was wearing riding up, revealing the sliver of a gun that was tucked into the back of her jeans.
"I'm going to need your help, Ray," Mai sighed, "If I don't find these keys or some cash soon I'm gonna be dead."
My eyes darted to the phone that sat on the kitchen work top, only a few feet away. I nod, but I am not listening, instead I step towards the phone, desperate to get in touch with the police, with an ambulance, with my father, with anyone.
"We'll find them, I'll help." My voice was shaking, my emotion and fear overcoming every ounce of courage I had. She turned and grinned at me, glad to have an ally. "I think mom keeps some cash over here."
I moved quickly, too quickly, to the counter with the phone on it. My hands were shaking and it was taking every inch of self control I had not to burst into tears there and then. "Whoa, hold up just a second," Mai called, seeing the the phone sitting a few inches to my right, "don't do anything stupid."
"I'm not, I promise you." I spat out desperately, turning to look at her. By now she had the gun drawn, her hands shaking – probably from withdrawal – and the barrel was pointed right at me, "I'm just having a look."
"You wouldn't do me like that, right?" Mai asked, and it was then I could see she was crying herself, her cheeks slick with tears, "I mean, baby sis, we've been through so much shit – you wouldn't do that."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, as I raised my hands. "I'm just trying to help."
"BULLSHIT!" She cried, letting out a choked sob, "I can't trust you, I can't trust anyone."
"Mai, we can fix this." I told her with a surprisingly steady voice. I watched as my sister shut her eyes, inhaling deeply, before opening them again and nodding.
"Open that drawer, and if you move one inch towards that phone I'll shoot you, I swear to god Ray, don't make me do that." She threatened, and I nodded, ignoring the tears that started to roll down my face. I reached out, pulling the drawer open, greeted by a variety of tapes, scissors and tacks. I cleared my throat, and shook my head, signalling there was no sign of the keys.
Suddenly there was a rattle, and then a creak, and both our heads snapped in the direction of the hallway. A loud slam echoed through the house, and the house seemed to shake. It was my father, my father had come home from work. I could see Mai's eyes, shining in the light, moving to point the gun in the direction of the doorway.
"DAD!" I screamed immediately without thinking, without even considering what might happen, "RUN!"
Suddenly there was a loud bang, louder than I had expected. It was followed by a dull thud, and it took a few seconds to realise that it was me, that it was my knee's that had given out, that it was my abdomen that had exploded with pain, that it was my metallic smelling blood pulsing from an open wound.
It's amazing how quickly you can pass out when you're in that much pain.
I cannot look T-Bag in the eye as I wipe the evidence of emotion off my face, exposed in more ways than one, "My sister's in the Bellevue," I tell him, "I can't go there, I'll be killed. And I can't go out of state because of her appeals," I let out a tearful laugh, glancing over to meet his eye,"And I refuse to spend the rest of my life in ad seg, with rape victims and pedophiles, so that's how I got landed here. With you. I'm no special agent, and I ain't a rat, or a cop. I'm just trapped."
T-Bag's composure falters, and he clears his throat, the hand that's holding the shank lowers as his eyes travel my body, stopping at the thick white raised skin that blossoms next to my navel, "Abruzzi-"
"Abruzzi knows, that's why he's been stuck to me like glue," I wrap my arms around my body, knowing that this is what Abruzzi knew would happen, that this is what he was trying to avoid, "it's also why he's been so desperate to get me out over that wall."
"You can still get out over that wall," T-Bag says, readjusting his posture, straightening up and sliding the shank into the waistband of his trousers, "I ain't got to end you if you're no rat, and anyway," I see him reach into his pocket, pulling out the lining, "we can still have some fun."
Suddenly there is a loud clanging noise, and my eyes dart over to the door. "Open this door immediately!" I hear the familiar voice of Bellick roar. I inhale sharply, fear rising in my throat, and my eyes dart around the room, searching for my clothes.
"There, there, Ray-na, calm down, what do you say?" T-Bag purrs, stepping over to me and reaching out to touch the skin on my cheek. I swipe him away, staring up at him with a face flooded with panic.
"If they find out you know, I'm out of here," I spit.
"Put your clothes on," T-Bag murmur's dismissively. I shoot him a glare, reaching out and grabbing my shirt, hearing the loud clang of the C.O outside as he struggles against the door. It is then I notice the manure stacked against it, preventing their entry.
I stare down at the t-shirt and I feel my stomach lurch, "You've ripped it," I whisper, "T, you've ripped my fucking clothes!"
"So?"
"So don't you think they'll figure out something's wrong when my clothes are torn up?!" I cry. Another clang, I hear the sound of linen moving on concrete, "Don't you think they'll figure out that maybe, having locked me in a room and torn my clothes, you just might have figured out I am not a man?!"
"You're just lookin' for an excuse..."
"An excuse for what? To not tug on your pocket?! Don't you think I'd be glad to do that now – at least I'd be safe, at least I'd be alive, instead of in some god damned hole in a ground," I am becoming irate, the bag of manure shifts again.
"Don't be over-dramatic," T-Bag says with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm not, they're going to send me to Bellevue, I can't stay here now." I murmur, and with a crash the bag gives way, turning over and spilling across the floor, filling the room with stink. I see Bellick, red faced and out of breath, look over the scene. I see his eyes widen as he notices the torn material in my hand, my chest covered by tight linen, T-Bag standing in front of me with a face now filled with realisation and regret.
"Get away from her!" Bellick cries in a panic.
"T," I whisper quietly, my eyes shining with fear, "You've killed me."
Suddenly Bellick pulls T-Bag back, pushing him across the room, trying to create as much distance between him and me as he physically can. I watch as T-Bag stagger's back, his face still blank, still processing what I have told him. Bellick is whispering something to me, but I'm not listening. I feel something heavy and warm settle over my shoulders, and I know it is his uniform jacket.
There are rushed footsteps, and more C.O's arrive through the door, immediately making their way over to T-Bag, pulling his arms behind his back and cuffing his wrists together. His eyes have not left mine, and he still remains expressionless as he's slowly escorted to the door of the storage room.
"Ray," He says quietly, before he rounds the corner, before our eyes break contact, "I am sorry."