cellmates

the gays

vik's pov

warning: derogatory term used

the first night was brutal. it was around ten p.m. by the time someone had escorted me to my cell, and i was fucking exhausted. when the cell door was locked behind me, i was absolutely thrilled to see three large and noisy ass men sitting on the floor and having a loud discussion about "the gays". i politely smiled, as they paused their conversation to look up at me.

"that one's yours." the largest of the men said, pointing to the top bunk on the left wall. the cells in this jailhouse consisted of two bunk beds, a toilet, and a sink. our cell smelled like literal human shit and looked as if no one had cleaned it in years. but i wasn't planning on complaining anytime soon.

"thanks," i mumbled back to him, before carefully climbing up the ladder to my bed. the reality of my situation began to set in, and i was starting to lose my emotional numbness. i was extremely scared, sad, and angry, and the conversation going on beneath me didn't help my situation.

"bet the kid up there's a fag. don't you think, tom?" one of the men whispered, as i half heartedly put my bed sheets on the mattress.

"gotta be. did you see his little, gayboy strut?" 'tom' responded, chuckling loudly.

"lights out means no talking." a guard walking by our cell growled at my lovely cellmates. they decided to shut up until the guard was long gone, before resuming their conversation in whispers, meaning if i shoved the pillow i was provided over my head, i would be able to sleep.

but it wasn't that easy. earlier my mind had been completed empty, but now it was racing with all of my fears of the future. and before i knew it, tears were streaming off of my face and onto the sheet below me. i tried to think of happy thoughts, like the day my family got our first dog when i was 8. he was a corgi retriever mix and we named him cinnamon. cinnamon was my best friend, until i went off to college. we would go on walks almost every night, he would comfort me whenever i was sick or upset, and he would always sleep on the end of my bed. sometimes i would just talk shit to him for hours, tell him all the school gossip, complain about certain boys, and sometimes completely rat on my friends when they were being assholes. cinnamon was the best and i remember bawling my eyes out last year, when my mum called about how they were going to have to put him down very soon. i couldn't go home due to the short notice, but i was content knowing he lived a pretty amazing life. however, i always wished i was there for him on his final day.

i finally drifted off to sleep thinking of what i would've done for cinnamon on his last day if i was there with him. the possibilities were endless and the thought of them made me happy. i was distracted from my current situation and surroundings for now. but i couldn't keep up the distractions forever. or much longer.

i've spent the last few days writing thousands of words of notes and plans and shit for this story, instead of writing the actual story like i should, so that's productive af. good job, me.

but, i decided to write this shit today. sorry, it's short and slightly rushed, but that's how i roll.

so thanks for reading, cunts. love y'all.