Calypso and the Moon

Jail.

TW: mention of r*pe

Calypso ran on two hours of sleep, and it showed. She had gotten home from work, having spent the entire day ignoring questions and calls from her father and friends, completely focused on not breaking down at work.

When she came home, she took one look at the cigarettes, and then her shoulders crumbled forward, and her head fell low and flowers fell down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt.

She layed on her couch for a while, simply just breathing and petting her dogs. Athena had ran to her side, curling up next to her. Calypso's flowers wet her couch pillow, creating a large pool of wetness on the cover.

She had told her bosses she needed a few days off work. So, she sat at her kitchen counter, her mind working hard.

On this morning, Calypso was awake before the sun, and he greeted her by warming up her apartment. The city was quiet below her, and she wondered if James had been thinking about her as she had him.

James stared through the railings of his jail cell, his hands folded on his lap and jaw clenched. He had forced the feelings away, not wanting to dwell on them for too long or he'd cry.

He requested a single cell, and they reluctantly agreed. James' tgrrapist he had seen while he was here the first time had spoken to him, the old man merely telling James what he already knew.

He stayed silent through all of it, and never looked at the man. He counted the minutes till he could see his butterfly again, and as he sat on the hard, thin mattress, he heard his jaw tick, and his finger nails dug into his palm.

His heart thudded in his throat, and his eyes burned from the lack of sleep. He was sure he looked horrible, and probably smelled it too.

He heard the sturdy footsteps of the guard approach, "Shower time, inmates!" He yelled, his stick colliding with the railings of the other cells.

James had always hated jail, but the showers were his least favourite. Fights usually broke out in there. But, that wasn't a worry for the man. He had left his mark on the prison, and he gained the respect he deserved. He saw familiar faces when he got here, and they merely gave him a nod, and a half smile.

The guard walked into his line of vision, "Shower, inmate," He grumbled. James stood, towering fell over the guard He was a small man, boney. The inmates called him "Bones" and he would lock them up in the small, metal rooms used for when fighters fought.

The man walked to the gate of his cell and stuck his hands through the hole, and felt as the guard slapped the handcuffs around his wrists.

He stepped back, allowing the guard to open the gate. He stepped out, and as he did, yells and screams and his name came from the cells. He guessed the yells came from newer inmates, not knowing of his status in the prison.

The older ones, serving life and more than a few years stayed silent, watching him with predatory eyes.

James kept his eyes forward, his jaw clenched and hands curled into tight fists. As they approached the showers, James stood infront of the guard, his arms lifted above his head. The guard patted him down, and gave a silent nod.

He took the handcuffs off, and when he turned, James sighed hard. The shower room was full of inmates, chattering loudly.

James unbuttoned his orange jumpsuit and slipped it off. He stepped into the shower, and mentally prepared himself for the cold water to hit his skin.

He inhaled sharply, the water waking him up in an instant. He wet his hair, his eyes staring up at the fluorescent lights. It wasn't long before the showers emptied and the new group came in, and that's when James new that it was new inmates, their chatter quieted down as they observed the showers.