I fucked him because I think that's what he wanted me to do. I think he needed it. He clung to me and held me like something precious and it was all I could do to keep the bile from rising up and choking me. I literally couldn't breathe when he tore off my bandage. I wanted to taste him, kiss those sad and pouty fucking lips of his 'cause it'd been so fucking long. But then he goes and kisses my chest, and I can't breathe. It hurt, his lips on my scar. It felt like his lips tore through my gnarled skin and his teeth had latched on and pulled out my goddamn lungs.
Christ how Toby loves me.... an' I, I want to believe in it. I want it to be all that I need, too. I want it to be enough to keep me here, in this place I go when I know just how much he loves me. But later on when I was fucking him, I just couldn't look him in the eyes. It was like confessing to a priest or something. I don't know, I just couldn't do what I was doing to him and have him look me in the eye. The shame I felt, I still feel… damn if I ever got cancer 'cause this shame I got inside me would eat it for lunch. He didn't seem to mind or notice though, I just kept my eyes fixed on his neck or weird enough, his ear. The left one. It would peak in and out of the light and I just kept to he rhythm of that. I knew it was me making his head bob, making that ear of his pop in and out of the shadow. But it was mesmerizing, like one of those hypnotist's with a watch or something. Back and forth. Light. Dark. Light.
I wanted to get it over with actually. I didn't want to be doing this to him, but that's what I do best, ain't it? I was merciless, but not at first though. I honestly wanted to be there and make him feel better, but then the ugliness took over and I started seeing myself as that hateful thing that can't keep his dick in his pants. My skin felt overheated, like the flames of hell themselves were licking at my skin as I pounded over and over into Toby. I know I hurt him, I could see it in how stiffly he walked over to take a piss later.
Before, during lockdown, he would pant and groan a bit when we were going at it, really quiet and reserved-like. And that's good because the last thing I want is to spend any more time in the hole. Tonight, as I started to take my aggression out on him and felt mortality crushing in on me, he started this hitching thing I've never heard before. It wasn't whimper as it was more of a… a crying out. He had enough sense to try and strangle it, but it was still getting loud enough for the hacks to start sniffing around. I thought for a second to shove my tongue down his throat to shut him up, but at that point I could barely catch my own breath.
Then he started bucking, his gut spasmed and his body tensed when I really laid into him and his hips would tilt up that much higher. If I hadn't been holding onto the bed frame above his head I swear he'd've thrown me off a couple times. Well, shit… that just made me wanna fuck him even harder.
He must've heard how loud he was getting 'cause he stuffed the end of my sheet in his mouth. Those cries of his became muffled staccato wails that came straight from his chest with every punishing thrust of my dick. But he never said stop, and I'm glad because I don't think I could've.
He's sleeping now, heavily from the sounds of it. Me, I ain't closed my eyes yet. These crazy thoughts keep popping into my head, like what it would feel like if Toby's bunk snapped and fell on me? Would it kill me or just break a few ribs? Or what if there was a blood clot or something in my chest just waiting to dislodge and plug up my heart? Could I be that lucky? I always figured I'd go out in a blaze of glory though, like gettin' shot or stabbed or something. Man, what a funeral that'd be, too. All my ex-wives there to give me the middle finger one last time before my red glitter coffin is chucked into the ground. All's I need is one last nail… so to speak. And I think that nail is sound asleep four feet above me.
But if history taught us anything is that you can shoot me, you can stab me, but it don't work. What fucking luck is that? A piece of shit like me cheatin' death over and over again just so I can come back and fuck up life some more. That what God planned for me? That what God wanted, a shit-for-brains like me to get nine lives when there's people out there dying from bee stings and stupid shit like that? Those are the guys who deserve it, all this life I got. Not me, not rotting away in this fucking cell left to treat the only person who loves me in this whole fucking world like a third-rate whore.
I can't lie down anymore. The smothering blankets seem to get heavier by the minute. I can feel it starting to get to me- Oz. Oz and life. Life and death. Death and hell. Hell and Oz. A fucking full circle spinning relentlessly in my brain, rocking my body with its futility. About an hour later he's here, out of his bunk on the floor with me, and I'm the one clinging now. I want to anchor myself to Toby and have him keep me good, but I know he can't do it. Not because the fucking hack is telling him to let go, but because I know if he does hold on that I'll eventually bring him down with me, and I can't do that. That flaming red horizon is screaming for me and only me.
When the hack is gone, he sits on my bunk. The look on his face… fuck, he just crushes me. How can all this be my ticket to the devil? How can he look at me like that and make me feel loved and damned at the same time? He wants me to come over and lay with him, and I do. I want to hold him like some needy bitch, and I do. But he can't tell me it'll all be okay, 'cause we both know better. We're both here and we can have our fucking dreams or nightmares, but reality will always be there to grab you by the nuts when you wake up.
He turned to face me, catching my eyes for a moment before burying his head under mind, under my chin and into the pillow so much that I don't know how he's able to breath. He's hiding in me. It's then that my blood chills and I'm hit fully with what he's going through. I mean, I know his kids've been taken, but for whatever reason it wasn't until just then that I realized how he must be feeling totally cut off.
It's this part of him, the part that comes to me when he's crushed that made me turn on Schillinger. But stupid me, I turned so late. I defied Vern after I'd broken Toby. But that's all behind us now. We've spilt a lot of blood to come this far, but I'd gladly bleed some more if it meant he'd turn to me for comfort one more time. And that's fucked up, it really is. It's like we're hugging each other to get better access so's to plunge that knife in deeper. But what else have we got? What else've I got? Dancing around alone in this fuckhole? My body feels heavy with the exhaustion caused by that thought.
Maybe Toby'd thought that he could get back to his normal life, even after all this Oz shit, even after what I'd done to him, and that's what's been keeping him together. But now that ain't gonna happen, his kids are missing and that hardly ever goes right. Those fantasies he had about getting his life back are now broken in two, and I can't think of anything better to help him than to kill that motherfucker Vern myself. But I know he don't want that. I may never show it, but I do listen.
But if only Toby had listened, maybe all this shit wouldn't have happened and his kids would be safe at home with sticky fingers and sweets in their mouths. I told him not to listen to Said, but that goddamn self-righteous streak in Toby thought he should fix this shit with Vern and now he's here seeking comfort in the devil himself. God help you Toby. God help you.