First Timer

You always remember the first time. That's what they say about sex, right? It would always be your reference till your last. It sets how high your bar of expectations would be. And that notion made me realize how it so much relates to killing a person. Take me as an example, I would never forget the feeling of taking someone's last breath; how they convulsed under my grip as life slowly drags away. The somehow euphoric feeling that comes with it. But even now, with all the nightmares forever etched in my brain. I'm still in denial, there would always be a part of my being that would never accept the reality of me becoming a murderer.

I groaned in frustration; I had been trying the hardest to fall asleep but it wouldn't grace me.

I tucked away my hands behind my head as I fixed myself in the springy mattress, trying hard not to make unnecessary noises and wake up the other occupants of the small room. It was hard though. Sighing, I resorted to at looking the spider webs that elaborately adorned one corner of the cell. I felt oblivious, making plans on how to remove each of them. Growing frustrated with too much thinking, I closed my eyes. It was gritty and papery behind the lids. A reminder that sleep was close to scarcity.

Too much thinking was getting in my way. I knew what was expected of me but delivering it the way they wanted me to, was another story. I was given a specific time frame, with the experience and hindsight. It was next to impossible. The things were just too complicated, to begin with.

A bell rang in the distance as lights slowly turned on, groaning and grunting came after as the occupants of each cell woke up.

"Better get your frigging ass up that bed, shower's only ten minutes," grumbled Russel. The old man was still giving me the silent treatment. And I wasn't one to complain, it was easier than bantering nonsensical comment.

Not any moment longer, the cell door opened up to an officer, escorting us to the shower. Towel and a change of clothing in hand, I reluctantly stepped my feet outside the cell. My worries started clawing down my stomach once more. To the others it may be easy, doing what I was doing as if eating a piece of candy but it took me a lifetime to create the facade that I was in. I understood how much it took to produce the fraught for me to captivate my audiences. I could only hope for my plan to work, that at the end of the day, things should be rolling fast. The way my puppeteer wanted it to be.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, entering the shower. Mist with the hint of humidity welcomed me in. Cheap deodorant wafted the air, hurting my eyes. There were four men inside, walking naked as the day they were born. I gulped, hastening my pace to enter one of the stalls, enclosing the curtain after me. I showered the fastest I could, immediately getting out right after.

"What are you looking at, new one? You are a pretty face." An inmate stopped me before I could take my leave. I cringed but hid it before the man see that I was growing afraid of our situation. How could I not stare when his meat was hanging freely in front of him, spurting a hard-on. The guy-- he was about a good foot taller than me-- inched closer to my side. My chin rose meeting his eyes, black like his soul.

"I'm straight, man. You can keep it to yourself. Fuck off," I said, not breaking the eye contact. It would be idiocy to show him that I was sweating under my clothes.

"What's the commotion in there? Two more minutes! Hustle boys! We don't have a whole day!" shouted one of the officers stationed at the door. The perpetrator moved out my way. Laughter echoed behind the background from other inmates. I kept a steady eye until I got out.

We were led to the yard for recreation. A dozen inmates were freely interacting with each one. Though most of them huddled in groups. I tailed with my cellmates to a corner we sat, away from the sun. I laid my back on the green grass. The dew was still fresh. I inched to my side inhaling the lovely scent of morning.

A foot connected on my behind. I turned to look at whoever it was. "I told you I'm straight, man. So, go find another hole to stick your fucking cock. I'm not interested, got it?" I said, calmer than I should be. I went back to my former position and side. The anticipation of the matter made me itching for trouble. I was having good progress on restraining myself but the way things were escalating, I had a feeling it wouldn't last that long.

"And, what makes you think I take no as an answer?" The guy knelt down. He gripped my shirt in one hand, forcing me to look at him squarely. "I get what I want. When I want them." Instead of answering, I laughed. Taunting him more. "Anything funny kid?" I shrugged my shoulder and rolled my eyes. Inclining my head in the direction of my so-called friends, I saw their bored faces. Something bloomed inside me, I wanted intensity. "I am asking you, kid!"

"It doesn't mean that I need to answer you. You're no God, " I chortled back, smiling overly sweet. The grip tightened on my neck. "Fuck off!" I banged my forehead to the guy and he finally able to release me.

The smell of metal circled on my nose immediately drawing me in for more. The urge inside me wanted to explode, the need for blood became overwhelming almost unbearable.

Author's Note: this is a hurried one because I'm too tired too think. Huhu