Safety Blanket

🌿 Chapter Two 🌿

"What- you think he's asking for his lawyer? After being locked down there for God knows how long- you think he's asking for his lawyer of all things?" The Warden had Dennis in her office, fingers pressed against the dark oak top of her desk. "If you think I won't get busted by Castle County for not knowing about this man- you're damn wrong Zalewski. This man doesn't exist-" she raised her eyebrows and a hand, gesturing out with it before running her ever so slightly gnarled fingers through her greying hair.

"You can't just keep him here either- he's innocent-"

"He's nonexistent, Zalewski. No name, no pin code, no photos..zilch! Nada!" Her heels gave their typical regal click as she strode around her desk, swiping a paper off a large stack of folders and pushing it into Dennis's chest. "And you're just a security guard. Get back to your post Zalewski, before you don't have one."

With a soft shift in his step he made his way to the door, making sure the thick hardwood latched shut behind him before he bothered to mutter, "still can't bury a man like that..he didn't do nothin wrong...just a kid 's all.."

The halls were dark and dim, lit only by bleak sunlight that pooled cooly on the tiles. It was nearly six pm, the sun should be setting soon..not that the amount of light made any difference. Dennis would still be cooped up in the prison's monitoring room, losing his mind as he stared at softly humming screens for seven hours. The short walk to his post was akin to one of the walk to an electric chair..although no such swift release would come. Mind boggling electric humming would however, making his mind swim and eyelids heavy.
Screens with flashes of violence and hate could only entertain for a moment, and Dennis had learned this very early into taking on the job. The only reason he did was to get some extra money for his wife at home, who seemed less of a wife now that he was barely seeing her..only hearing her voice from over the phone, but now was too late to dial. She was probably making dinner for herself, folding over her famous omelet and letting the steam rise as she ever so slightly burnt it..Dennis missed her cooking. He yearned for it more than ever..but hey. This schedule was only temporary- recently he'd been made to come into work a few hours earlier because of a shortage of workers. Now, they hired more, and he'd get to see his lovely wife soon.

It wasn't long before Dennis had strewn out his things, making his little personal cell just a tad more homey. A small radio sat on the desk, quietly droning Gene Pitney's "Town Without Pity". He sat with a small yet thick book of baby names in his hands, the cover a soft blue. It wasn't long ago that he had learned his kid was going to be a boy..but what names could he possibly think of? Noah? Garrett? Personally he had liked Garrett, yet his wife had previously had a teacher who was a dick who'd also happened to have the name of Garrett. Maybe something like Gabriel? No, no. Dennis knew someone that he wasn't fond of named Gabriel. He raised his eyes to glance at the screen, watching officers do their rounds around the cells..occasional flashes of flesh on the screen as prisoners dangled their hands out of their cells only to get promptly smacked back in by a looming guard.
"I wonder what his name is.." Dennis whispered softly aloud, letting his eyes wander to the Kid's desolate looking cell. At first he'd thought that they had moved him into another cell- for the space behind the bars looked pretry void. Yet right by the little space cut out of the bars for food trays to slide in, he could see a hand perched atop a knee underneath the constant buzzing grain of static. Dennis must've been staring for a little longer than he anticipated, because he could have sworn he saw the Kid looking at him through the camera..not just at the camera..but making eye contact. When Dennis blinked the fuzzy image of the Kid was submerged in poor quality and his eyes hurt from getting so close. Damn..how old were these screens? Dennis momentarily waved his hand over the humming machines, feeling a thick blanket of static electricity between his hand and the screens..something about feeling the static made it seem oddly soft, oddly comforting..it was like he was home for a brief moment, rubbing his hand over his wife's blanketed side..