Chapter Ten: Slam
Donut finished folding what was probably the millionth orange jumpsuit and rubbed his eyes. So much orange made his eyes water. He kept his back to the wall whenever possible, though more out of habit than anything. No-one would try and attack him in the laundry room, there were too many guards around. Anyone who tried attacking him would be hauled off quickly.
Although, Donut noted warily, Tucker could probably get him in the face with the hot part of the iron he was holding. But Tucker didn't look like he was planning on it. He had been disturbingly cheerful for the last day, though. Yesterday, at dinner, he had taken a break from his continuous angry glaring at Donut, instead just grinning while he ate.
Either he'd decided to spontaneously forgive Donut, which seemed unlikely, or he had something planned. Which seemed much more likely, seeing as the sudden cheerfulness had occurred when Caboose had been released from solitary.
Donut was sure that Caboose now knew the truth as well. Although, Caboose hadn't seemed angry. Just... upset. Donut had seen him at breakfast, but Caboose had just stared downwards at his plate and refused to look at Donut. And now, in the laundry room, he was just kind of staring off into space. York occasionally prodded him in the back to keep him working, although it only seemed to work for a couple of minutes at a time.
Eventually, York rapped his nightstick against the doorway to catch everyone's attention and said it was the end of their laundry shift and the beginning of lunch. Always a good time of the day. Donut placed the last jumpsuit on the stack and looked around for Simmons. He had been sticking with him and Grif for the past few days, since Tucker had been released, and Tucker's sudden cheerful mood made him feel like it would be a bad idea to be left alone, now more than ever. He suspected Simmons was getting a little tired of it, and Grif had outright stated that Donut was being clingy, but better clingy than horribly, horribly injured.
While Donut glanced around, he noted that Tucker was still by himself. Caboose seemed to have left as soon as the whistle went off. Seeing as Caboose was Church's and, by extension, Tucker's protection, that surprised Donut a little. Donut shook his head, and upon spotting Simmons near the door, he trotted over to him.
"You realise that if you're attacked in front of us, we're not actually going to do anything, right?" Simmons told him. "We're not stupid, we're not going to get in the way."
"Yeah... I know that. But they'd be less likely to attack when I'm with you, right?"
"I guess. But you'll be on your own, eventually." Simmons raised his voice. "Grif, hurry up! How can you be so slow to finish?"
"Shut up, Simmons," Grif shouted back, from where he was still stuck ironing jumpsuits.
"Can I ask you something?" Donut asked.
"What about?"
"You and Grif."
Simmons raised an eyebrow. "What about us?"
"Why do you always follow each other around? I mean, you don't do much but argue like an old married couple."
"Why does everyone compare us to a married couple?" Simmons muttered under his breath.
"I was just wondering why."
Simmons shrugged. "It's just what we do, I guess. We've always done that."
"Always? Does that mean you guys knew each other before? Did you get thrown in here together? What'd you do?" Donut asked curiously. "Was it like in the movies where the two people go on the run together, and it's kind of like an elopement but with policemen instead of angry family members?"
"Ugh. I knew saying we knew each other before was going to lead to weird questions. And the answers are yes, yes, murder and... what the hell kind of movies were you watching?"
Donut opened his mouth to explain the plots of those kind of movies, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see Tex standing behind him.
"We didn't have enough inmates today to carry all the jumpsuits down to the storeroom. Take the stack you ironed down there," she said shortly, after staring him down for a moment.
"Oh... yes, ma'am."
Tex didn't say another word, she just left towards the cafeteria, which was the direction all the inmates and most of the guards were heading in. Simmons scratched his head.
"Weird. Why didn't she ask earlier, before the whistle went off?" he muttered. "Maybe delaying your lunch is some kind of punishment for the Church thing."
Donut shrugged. A guard wouldn't do anything real horrible, would they? There were always those really corrupt guards in the movies. Still, Donut had to remind himself, life isn't like a movie. Although he tended to forget every few minutes. He did spend a lot of time wishing the jail was a bad dream, and that he would wake up at home, with his roommate alive and not trying to murder him.
A few minutes later, Donut was trying to push open the door to the storeroom with his foot (a difficult task) and attempting to see over the stack of jumpsuits he was carrying (also a difficult task). After a couple of minutes of failing, Donut finally managed to push open the door.
Trying to see over the jumpsuits, he noticed a lot of orange around, along with some white clothes, things like undershirts and socks. But that was all he had a chance to see before someone grabbed him from behind and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Mmmph! Mmmgh!" Donut tried pulling the hand off his mouth, but it was as futile an effort as getting chocolate stains out of a white shirt.
"Is anyone waiting outside, Lieutenant Pop-N-Fresh?"
"Mmh!"
"Right. You can not talk with a hand over your mouth. I will stop that if you promise not to yell."
Donut considered for a moment before nodding. Caboose removed his hand and turned Donut around, although he kept a hold on his wrist so Donut couldn't run for it.
"I am sorry for that," Caboose said quietly. "But I did not want you to yell and get me into trouble. I do not want to go back into the small room."
"Don't hurt me!" Donut yelped.
"That is very close to yelling. If you do that again, I will have to put a sock in your mouth to keep you quiet. I do not want to do that. Socks taste bad." Caboose tilted his head. "Tucker says that you are a 'backstabbing bitch'. That you helped O'Malley hurt Church. Is that true?"
Donut did what any sane person would do in his situation. He lied.
"No. No, I didn't!"
Caboose nodded. "I did not think that you would. O'Malley is a mean person and you are a nice person. Nice people do not work with mean people. And you would not lie to me because we are friends. Right?"
"Yes. Friends. Best friends," Donut agreed nervously. "Great. Can you let me go, now?"
"No. I cannot do that."
"Why? Come on, Caboose. I didn't do anything, that means you can let me go."
"We are friends, but Church is my best friend. And if I do not hurt you, then Church might never get better again. And I have to help him, even if it means I have to do really bad things." Caboose chewed on his finger thoughtfully, staring down at Donut's legs. "Do I really have to break both... Uhm... do you know which part of the leg would hurt the least if it was broken?"
"Huh? No! No, no, don't! Please don't break my legs! Please, Caboose!" Donut pleaded.
"You are yelling again. Please stop it."
"Come on, let me go! How will breaking my legs help Church? It won't!"
"But... you're like a warm, fuzzy blanket. And blankets always help people get better," Caboose mumbled.
"Come on, please! Anything but breaking my legs, anything but that! Please, pl—mmf!" Donut was cut off by Caboose cramming a pair of the rolled up socks lying around into his mouth.
"I am sorry, but I did warn you, and it is difficult to think with you yelling. At least the socks are clean."
Donut shook his head, and tried spitting the sock of out his mouth, but to no avail.
"And now you cannot help me figure out which part of the leg would hurt the least," Caboose sighed, tugging Donut towards the door, and shoving Donut onto the floor, his legs sticking out the door. After pinning down his wrists using his foot, Caboose shifted Donut a little so only one leg was sticking out of the door. He grasped the doorknob with one hand, and covered his own eyes with the other.
"Sorry!" And then Caboose slammed the door as hard as he could on Donut's leg.
Donut's scream of pain was muffled by the socks stuck in his mouth. Caboose peeked through his fingers, before covering them again and slamming the door on his leg once more. Twice more. Three times more. The fourth time around, there was an audible crack, but that was lost on Donut. Only the sharp pain registered, like his leg had been cleaved in two. Caboose heard the crack, and peeked through his fingers again. He had gone even paler than he normally was. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please do not hate me! I do not want you to hate me!" Caboose covered his eyes again. "No, no, no... don't think..." Caboose lowered his hands, reached down and pulled Donut out into the corridor. "I was supposed to break both your legs. But one is already too much."
As soon as Donut's hands were free, they immediately shot towards his leg. Tears were trickling down his face and being soaked up by the sock working as a gag, muffling any sounds of pain or cries for help.
Caboose shut the door and crouched down in front of Donut. He looked worried, although there was a weird look in his eyes that Donut couldn't quite place.
"I am going to leave you here. And Tex will probably find you very soon." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I do not want to go back into the small room. But if you want to say I did it... you can. I will not get angry at you about it." Caboose tugged the pair of socks out of Donut's mouth and tossed them aside. Donut didn't scream. He would have earlier, but the pain was too strong and sharp for him to even think about screaming. Instead, he just cried, holding onto his leg.
"How... could you..." Donut choked out between the sobs. Caboose looked downwards, then stood up.
"Because I had to... to fix Church. But if you do not want to be friends anymore, that's okay. I... would not want to be friends with myself either."
And then Caboose turned around and hurried away down the corridor, leaving Donut lying on the floor, clutching his broken leg.