Lines // hemmings

Chapter 2

LUKE

I close my eyes again, knowing it’s in the middle of the night. Probably close to 3 am, but I’m not sure since I don’t have a clock. The only way for me to keep track of time is if I count the seconds starting at either breakfast, lunch, dinner or when the lights go out. Because everything in between is just time. Dead time. Not even at work do they care about time.

It’s quiet, except for Ashton moving in the bunk above me every five minutes making the bed screech. I should ask for some oil but they will probably give me weird looks and interrogate me what the hell I need oil for, so I try to remove that thought out of my head.

Great now’s he’s begun to snore, too. Guess this will be another one of those sleepless nights.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” Someone screams into my ear and I jolt straight up, almost hitting my head in the bunk above me. 

“What was that for?” I yell back and rub my ears.

“It’s breakfast time, Hemmo,” Ashton grins next to me, his voice still loud.

How can he be so full of energy this early? I’m definitely not an early bird. And especially not when I’ve been awake most of the night, just thinking, like I’ve done almost every night since I got here.

“Stop screaming, Irwin.”

“Stop being so lazy. You’ve gotta get up if you want your daily dose of protein, mister.”

I stare at him and give him the evil eye which he returns.

“You know I can beat you up, right?” He says raising an eyebrow and flexes his biceps.

“You’ve already done it and you always tell me, so yes I know that.”

“Good,” he smirks and pulls on one of his grey t-shirts. Or it’s mine. I don’t know, they all look the same.

Breakfast, the most important meal of the day, is served in the same canteen as lunch and dinner. It’s quite a big canteen, approximately 500 people can be here, or so it says on a sign by the door but we’re not 500 here. 200 maybe, at most. I haven’t counted. I barely even know when someone I know leaves. I don’t really care about them. I try to keep me to myself but I’ve socialized with a couple of the guys so I have my crew that I know will take care of me. But mostly it was Ashton who convinced them, since they’re all his friends. I don’t know why he did it. I mean, why me? When I got here, I wasn’t strong, I didn’t have any muscles or could take 200 pounds in weight. My face wasn’t rough and I didn’t have any tattoos. Over the years I did start working out more and have gained a few extra pounds – thanks to lifting weights. I was even talked into getting a lip piercing. 

So at breakfast – and lunch and dinner – I sit together with Ashton and a bunch of other guys with tattoos and scared faces. Some look nice, some don’t. But I just keep shut and eat my breakfast in peace. They don’t even have eggs and bacon.

After breakfast I always go back and lie in my bed until the mail arrives, not that I get any, but Ashton’s mom usually sends him cookies and he always shares with me. He’s even told me that I’m allowed to open his mail, if it says “cookies” on the envelope. Apparently he told his mom about me so now she makes sure to bake a few extra. 

“Mail time!” A loud voice starts down the hall and I hear people cheering.

I don’t bother to stand up, but Ashton does and when the mail man reaches us he says: