Joe hadn't thought it could get any worse than earlier, but having to undress himself and physically participate made him realize, he was truly in hell. Was this real justice? Was this God's way of punishing him for being the cause of Iola's death? He didn't know. He didn't know what to believe anymore. As he removed his clothes, Joe thought back to all the times Frank had been there for him. Rescuing him in the nick of time. Joe's eyes involuntarily looked away from his task to the cell door. No one there. No sound of anyone coming.
Joe finished his task and dropped his clothing on top of his locker. As Pierce grabbed him and pushed him to the bed on his stomach, Joe gave up any lingering hope he had of being rescued. It was over. There was no one who cared about him. No one to save him. No.... Joe grunted and squinched his eyes as a burst of pain assaulted him.
Joe opened his eyes. He made no sound. Shed no tears. When Pierce finished, he shoved Joe to the floor and there he lay; unmoving; unseeing.
Joe opened his eyes. He still lay on the floor but the noise he heard was telling him it was time to arise and head to the showers. He got to his feet, his blue eyes now a dull gray, and put on his clothes. The cell door opened and he followed Pierce out of the cell and down to the showers. There Joe removed his clothes and stepped under the spray. He had no time to wash though. Someone else stepped up behind him.
"You just cost me a whole pack of smokes," growled the thick set man with flabby arms. "You sure as hell better be worth it."
Later, Joe took his seat at the table, his breakfast of watery eggs and greasy bacon in front of him. He didn't try to eat. He wasn't hungry and it wasn't the food that turned his stomach.
"Eat up," ordered Pierce. "You will not starve yourself to death while you're my bitch. Now eat, or I will force feed it to you."
Joe picked up the bacon and began munching it. The threat didn't mean anything to him. He merely did as he was told, his eyes still maintaining their new lackluster gray appearance.
One day faded into another and then another. His routine became set. At night, Pierce would prove Joe belonged to him and at least twice a day, Joe would be sold to anyone who offered Pierce a full pack of cigarettes. Some evenings, the guard would leave the rec room and Joe would be made to do a strip tease to a video on MTV. Sunday came and Joe was informed he had one visitor, a female. His mother, most likely. He refused to see her and spent the time in the rec room, sitting in a corner and staring at the wall.
"I'm so glad you are back," Laura said, smiling at Frank and Fenton when they entered the house on Wednesday night. She gave Frank a peck on the cheek as he hugged her tight and then she let Fenton envelope her in his arms. She clung to him tightly.
"What is it, honey?" Fenton asked softly.
"I...I went to see Joe on Sunday," she started.
"How is he?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes searching her face.
Laura shook her head. "He refused to see me," she said.
Frank's eyes fell and he picked up his duffel bag. "I'm going to go and shower," he said.
"I'll fix some dinner," Laura said, plastering a small smile on her face.
Frank shook his head. "I'm kind of tired," he said. "I think I will just go on to bed."
Fenton and Laura watched Frank head upstairs. Fenton squeezed Laura. "We're going to work on getting Joe out of there," he promised.
Upstairs, Frank took his shower then headed to bed where he lay staring at the ceiling until the first rays of morning began to seep through the window. Closing his eyes, the tears began to fall once again and soon he fell asleep.
Saturday night was wrestling night and all the prisoners in Joe's cell block were gathered around the tube. But a storm was raging outside and the picture went out. Everyone was grumbling except for Joe and Pierce. Pierce had been watching Joe since his arrival and he had come to the conclusion that things were too normal. It was time to shake him up.
Pierce went over to the guard, one Joe had discovered was more of a prisoner here than some of the inmates. He exited the room and Pierce stood up in front of the other inmates. "Get up here Hardy," he ordered.
Joe stood up and made his way slowly to the front of the room. He walked with no trepidation. Whatever Pierce had planned was having no effect on him whatsoever.
When Joe reached the front, Pierce ordered Joe to pull his shirt off. Joe did as told. Turning to the room, Pierce smiled and rubbed Joe's half naked body. "A different kind of entertainment tonight," he said. "Up for bid, we have one blond headed., blue- eyed son of the bastard who is responsible for so much of our present discomfort." He paused to let his words sink in. "The only stipulation is that whoever wins the bid, has to offer up something for our viewing pleasure. Any voyeurs in the room?"
There was an outbreak of laughter and the first bid went up. "Two."
"Ah, I have two cigarettes," Pierce said. "Do I hear three? And remember boys, payment on delivery."
"Three!" came a shout.
"Four!"
"Five!"
"Six!"
"I hear six. Do I hear seven?" Pierce asked, looking around the room questioningly. No takers. "Ah come on, boys. That's not even half a pack."
"I'll give you five if he has a talented mouth," offered another voice.
"Me too," came a second voice.
"Sold!" Pierce said. "But one at a time, boys. One at a time. Johnny, you were the winning bidder. Have at him."
Johnny stood up and handed Pierce the required amount of cigarettes. "Strip," Pierce ordered Joe. Joe removed the rest of his clothing and stood waiting, his eyes staring straight ahead. And when the time came to return to his cell, he had a few new bruises.
"Have fun tonight?" Pierce demanded as the cell locked shut behind him. Not answering, Joe began taking his clothing off as instructed his first night there.
Joe finished his task and dropped his clothing on top of his locker. As Pierce grabbed him and pushed him to the bed on his stomach, Joe gave up any lingering hope he had of being rescued. It was over. There was no one who cared about him. No one to save him. No.... Joe grunted and squinched his eyes as a burst of pain assaulted him.
Joe opened his eyes. He made no sound. Shed no tears. When Pierce finished, he shoved Joe to the floor and there he lay; unmoving; unseeing.
Joe opened his eyes. He still lay on the floor but the noise he heard was telling him it was time to arise and head to the showers. He got to his feet, his blue eyes now a dull gray, and put on his clothes. The cell door opened and he followed Pierce out of the cell and down to the showers. There Joe removed his clothes and stepped under the spray. He had no time to wash though. Someone else stepped up behind him.
"You just cost me a whole pack of smokes," growled the thick set man with flabby arms. "You sure as hell better be worth it."
Later, Joe took his seat at the table, his breakfast of watery eggs and greasy bacon in front of him. He didn't try to eat. He wasn't hungry and it wasn't the food that turned his stomach.
"Eat up," ordered Pierce. "You will not starve yourself to death while you're my bitch. Now eat, or I will force feed it to you."
Joe picked up the bacon and began munching it. The threat didn't mean anything to him. He merely did as he was told, his eyes still maintaining their new lackluster gray appearance.
One day faded into another and then another. His routine became set. At night, Pierce would prove Joe belonged to him and at least twice a day, Joe would be sold to anyone who offered Pierce a full pack of cigarettes. Some evenings, the guard would leave the rec room and Joe would be made to do a strip tease to a video on MTV. Sunday came and Joe was informed he had one visitor, a female. His mother, most likely. He refused to see her and spent the time in the rec room, sitting in a corner and staring at the wall.
"I'm so glad you are back," Laura said, smiling at Frank and Fenton when they entered the house on Wednesday night. She gave Frank a peck on the cheek as he hugged her tight and then she let Fenton envelope her in his arms. She clung to him tightly.
"What is it, honey?" Fenton asked softly.
"I...I went to see Joe on Sunday," she started.
"How is he?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes searching her face.
Laura shook her head. "He refused to see me," she said.
Frank's eyes fell and he picked up his duffel bag. "I'm going to go and shower," he said.
"I'll fix some dinner," Laura said, plastering a small smile on her face.
Frank shook his head. "I'm kind of tired," he said. "I think I will just go on to bed."
Fenton and Laura watched Frank head upstairs. Fenton squeezed Laura. "We're going to work on getting Joe out of there," he promised.
Upstairs, Frank took his shower then headed to bed where he lay staring at the ceiling until the first rays of morning began to seep through the window. Closing his eyes, the tears began to fall once again and soon he fell asleep.
Saturday night was wrestling night and all the prisoners in Joe's cell block were gathered around the tube. But a storm was raging outside and the picture went out. Everyone was grumbling except for Joe and Pierce. Pierce had been watching Joe since his arrival and he had come to the conclusion that things were too normal. It was time to shake him up.
Pierce went over to the guard, one Joe had discovered was more of a prisoner here than some of the inmates. He exited the room and Pierce stood up in front of the other inmates. "Get up here Hardy," he ordered.
Joe stood up and made his way slowly to the front of the room. He walked with no trepidation. Whatever Pierce had planned was having no effect on him whatsoever.
When Joe reached the front, Pierce ordered Joe to pull his shirt off. Joe did as told. Turning to the room, Pierce smiled and rubbed Joe's half naked body. "A different kind of entertainment tonight," he said. "Up for bid, we have one blond headed., blue- eyed son of the bastard who is responsible for so much of our present discomfort." He paused to let his words sink in. "The only stipulation is that whoever wins the bid, has to offer up something for our viewing pleasure. Any voyeurs in the room?"
There was an outbreak of laughter and the first bid went up. "Two."
"Ah, I have two cigarettes," Pierce said. "Do I hear three? And remember boys, payment on delivery."
"Three!" came a shout.
"Four!"
"Five!"
"Six!"
"I hear six. Do I hear seven?" Pierce asked, looking around the room questioningly. No takers. "Ah come on, boys. That's not even half a pack."
"I'll give you five if he has a talented mouth," offered another voice.
"Me too," came a second voice.
"Sold!" Pierce said. "But one at a time, boys. One at a time. Johnny, you were the winning bidder. Have at him."
Johnny stood up and handed Pierce the required amount of cigarettes. "Strip," Pierce ordered Joe. Joe removed the rest of his clothing and stood waiting, his eyes staring straight ahead. And when the time came to return to his cell, he had a few new bruises.
"Have fun tonight?" Pierce demanded as the cell locked shut behind him. Not answering, Joe began taking his clothing off as instructed his first night there.