Jailbird

~Part 2: Chapter 9~

Zedlin

"Hey, Zed... you got any ramen noodles?"

I looked over my shoulder and glanced at my cell mate who currently had his hands settled on his hips; leaning forward, peering into my box of personal items.

Including my goddàmn snacks.

"You have three seconds to get the fùck away from my shìt before I get up," I snapped out at him, watching him put his hands up in surrender.

His name was Zach and the guy was a total crack head before coming here. And I sometimes thought that he was so crazy about ramen because he secretly liked to snort the powder.

Zach sniffled and ran his hands up and down his arms, "Chill Zed, I-I was just asking a question. Whatcha writing?"

I ignored him and turned back around, staring down at blank piece of notebook paper.

What couldn't I find something to say to her?

Maybe because she dropped the biggest bomb on me that I was about to become a fùcking...

I was going to lose my shìt.

I needed out of my dàmn cell. Away from Zachary's crazy asś and away from Sienna and her very pregnant pictures she sent.

What the fùck.
What the fùck!
WHATTHEFÙCK!?

Glancing at the tiny see through clock I had on our desk Zach and I shared, I saw that we were hours away from receiving time out of our cells.

I needed to talk to my therapist, now.

"Zach, I need you to put on the monkey act for me. I need the guards attention real quick," I said, running my hands through my hair and trying not to snatch it out.

Without turning around, I could hear Zach hop up onto our bunk beds and start it up.

"Wooo woo AHHHH!!" He started to screech like a monkey on crack and our bunk bed started creaking and squeaking, creating a loud commotion.

I tried to keep my cool as I could hear other inmates groaning in annoyance, too.

Truth be told, Zach did this shìt up to three times a day. Sometimes they'd haul his asś off to solitude for it, but most of the times I saved him from that... by beating the shìt out of him myself.

Not too long after, a guard came up to our cell and banged onto our bars with his baton.

"Shut the fùck up! You all may be filthy animals, but this isn't a goddàmn zoo!"

I took my opportunity, "Hey, I need to see my therapist."

The guard looked at me with a scowl, but started to unclip the cell keys from his waist.

"If I had to room with that fùcktard, I'd be running for a therapist, too. Let's go, Hayes. You know the drill," he said.

I stood up from my chair and went to the wall, placing my hands over the cracks in the cement and spreading my legs.

He quickly shackled my ankles and cuffed my hands. Before we left my cell, I grabbed my therapy folder with the letter Sienna sent me; along with all of the contents inside and let the guard marched me out of the cell and towards the therapists offices.

"Whatcha gonna talk about today, Hayes?" The guard asked me a few minutes into our walk.

I purposely ignored him and bit my tongue when he suddenly shoved me up against the wall of the narrow hallway we were walking through.