“Hey, Doc.” He took one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the floor.
Yrah was outraged. She looked at the guard who said nothing when Gresso blatantly challenged his authority by littering. She charged him with her hands propped up on her waist. “Well? Why didn’t you tell him smoking is not allowed on the premises?” She pointed to the placard on the wall that said: “Vietato Fumare” underneath a cigarette with the universal prohibition logo stamped on it.
The brown-eyed guard looked up at Yrah as if he just realized she was there, blinked at her, then stood only to pick up the cigarette, stub it against the side of the rubbish bin before tossing it inside. He returned wordlessly to his seat.
Gresso tossed his head back and laughed like a loon. He dr
Yrah greeted Gresso with a scowl as he strolled into the clinic as if he owned the place with no handcuffs, the top three buttons of his coveralls unbuttoned, and sporting a smirk that said he’s got her number and there ain’t a thing she could do about it.She’s starting to regret her decision about putting her life on hold just so she could come here to get closure on Gresso. That’s what’s supposed to happen. She shouldn’t have entertained her feverish, teenage-girl-crush thoughts. And now, where was she? Every day, she had to contend with him and battle with what she felt for him.Sometimes he looked like he’d at least combed if not showered, but sometimes, he showed up like this: bleary-eyed, new bruises, a cut on his right cheek. Today he had a laceration on his forehead.
This was wrong, wasn’t it? She was a Filipina maiden. She should be defending her purity to preserve for her husband as a gift on their wedding night, not laying it out like a buffet for this green-eyed European conquistador in a prison bathroom. But those rational voices are getting softer and softer, fading into oblivion as the tentacles of lust and temptation tightened their grip on her and drew her even closer.She no longer had the strength to fight him. Why should she? He was the devil himself, and she was a slave to her flesh. He made her this way. On the day they met a few years ago, he must have cast a spell on her that was now just bearing fruit. She’d been too young then. He’d waited till she was ripe and ready.“G—Gress—ohh.”She could hear the pleadi
Yrah was sure she looked like a bedraggled madwoman all day as she’d gone around pulling her hair in frustration. Jaz and Z had asked what was wrong with her, and she only snapped at them. When she apologized, they confessed that the confined surroundings were starting to get to them, too.She’d been tossing and turning on her bed for hours, but sleep eluded her even with the aid of Melatonin, which she always had on hand because sometimes she had trouble sleeping. Gresso. Her body still shivered from the aftershock of this morning’s events, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. How could one man affect her like this? That scene in the restroom repeated in her brain in a loop, and she felt nothing but shame over the way she fully surrendered to Gresso, a violent convict with no remorse.She was like a dog who’d been starved for
Yrah needed to sit down. She no longer had the strength to stand. What kind of world did she live in before that she didn’t know that people like Gresso and places like this existed?The young man guided her down to a chair next to a table, probably because she looked like she was about to faint. “Doktora, the truth is, no one forces the inmates to fight. It’s out of their own volition. They’re the ones who sign up to fight.”From far away, somewhere deep in her mind, Yrah could hear someone shrieking. “What?”The guard shook his head as though she disappointed him in some way. “They can make money from those fights, doktora, which they can send to their families outside. That’s not all. They can also ask anything from the warden, as long as it falls within the c
"HARDER."Gresso glared at the little twerp over his shoulder massaging his back. "You ain't tickling ivories there, Tinkerbell. Didn't you suck enough milk from your momma?"The kid massaging his back didn't say a word, just applied more pressure. He was used to Gresso's harsh words. For as long as he'd known the big man, he'd always spoken this way. He didn't have what the French called… finesse.The Boss relaxed, and his muscles settled as the kid continued to roll his thumbs into the man's shoulder blades. They were in the corner where their rag-tag crew usually hung out when the sun was out. Some of the inmates were shooting hoops, while the others pumped iron like it was their job. This was the life for them, Frodo supposed, but it bored him. Really bored him."Hallå, Chefen! Don't you have a schedule today?" teased one of his guys, a skinny Lithuanian who was trying to learn Swedish. He was talking about Gresso's visits to the clinic to see
Yrah… the girl whose face was branded onto his brain on the day he met her. For the past five years, she’d been the only thing who’d kept him going. The thought that she was out there, living a happy life—oblivious of the ugliness of his world, untouched by the filth he trudged through day after day—made his own existence bearable. And all because she said she wasn’t afraid of him.He’d never desired, craved, yearned for anyone the way he did for Yrah. Almost nothing in the world frightened him anymore, but the thought of anyone hurting her kept him awake at night. Why he obsessed over her the way he did, he hadn’t been able to figure out.Maybe it was her long black hair that he imagined winding around his fist and pulling as he slammed himself into her over and over again. Or her sweet, full lips that tempted him all the time to grab and kiss her. Maybe it was her voice. Even when Yrah was mad at him, her lovely voice was soft, breathy, and reminded h
Yrah shifted her weight between one foot then the other while Gresso stared at her with meaning, as though he were expecting something from her. Yrah scratched her throat, adjusted the lapel of her lab coat, and swept her hair out of her face.As soon as she closed the door to the clinic with Gresso following closely behind her, he went to sit in her desk chair, folded his muscular arms over his broad, hard chest, and focused his eyes on her, squinting a little as though he were concentrating.The man had the features of a Greek god. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t a Hollywood actor or something because he was just THAT good-looking. It seemed every time she saw him, he got even more gorgeous. How was that even possible? You’d think she was seeing him for the first time every time she reacted to him flexing his biceps (not that he ever flexed on purpose), which was with open-mouthed awe and some drooling.The object of her admiration ran the tip of his f
He opened his eyes, surprising her once again with their beauty, just before blowing the candle. When he looked right at her, the blush on his cheeks came back as if he were suddenly the shy one, so when he took the cake from her, she didn’t protest.She followed him to the table with a saucer and fork as well as a knife to cut the cake. She even cut a slice for him.“You still haven’t said it,” he murmured as she handed him his cake.She leaned over to kiss his cheek since he sounded so pouty. “I’m sorry, Gresso. Are we good now?”Though it still looked like he was trying to stifle his smile, his eyes glittered with his genuine emotion. “Nah. Let me think about it first. You broke my heart, Yrah.”She was about to answer when the door opened, and Ysiah walked in. Yrah tried to look as casual as possible and said hello.Her colleague smiled at her, but as soon as he looked at Gresso, his face darkened. He cleared his throat and returne