I Don't Belong to You Read online

  «Don’t be coy. The detainee in the last cell, the one who was reading. »

  At this point I’m unmasked and I don’t want to pretend a disinterest I don’t feel.

  «Yes, I actually noticed him right away, but not for the reason that you believe. I was just thinking that he looks a good boy. I can’t imagine he committed a crime. »

  She laughs aloud, living me dumbfounded.

  «Don’t let his appearance to fool you, Khyla. The fact that he loves read, doesn’t change anything of his state. He’s a delinquent of the worst kind, other than a good boy. Do you wonder why he’s here? Three years ago he fucked his sister fifteen years old and she got pregnant. A real perverted. »

  To this revelation I open wide my eyes. An incestuous pedophile, that’s what he is. And I don’t want anything to do with someone like this.

  CHAPTER 3

  Three days have passed and my office had become a real shit. Files of paperwork on the desk obscure the view when I sit. Balls of powder big as tennis balls run on the floor. The neon light is black, all covered with dead insects. In Mary’s house is not better, anyway. It’s too dirty and chaotic. I have to say that it’s not my fault. When I inhabited with Fred, our apartment was decorous. We didn’t make home works every day, but we tried to be tidy. Instead, since I live with Mary, I feel like living in a broche. Every day I repeat to myself that it was better to look for another accommodation, after separating from Fred, but I don’t think Mary would ever forgive me. Moreover we are friends since many years, a true and deep friendship. We were already inseparable when we attended the same high school in Mariposa. Let’s figure out when I told her that I wanted to move to Los Angeles, too. She was looking forward to it. Then she invited me every Friday to dinner and it was always difficult to find a free chair where to sit down. Her chronic disorder was something known. But there’s quite a difference between an occasional visit and living in the same house. I feel like living in a nightmare. Mary takes off her knickers and leaves them on the floor; she does her hair and leaves the comb on the kitchen’s sink. In short, to have a decent home, I should spend all my free time picking up her things. The same is in the office, where she spends as much time as me. It reflects her way to see tidiness. Practically it doesn’t exist.

  This morning I woke up moody. I spent all night dreaming about Fred fucking with Fanny for several times in front of my dismayed eyes. Because of those two stupid in my dreams, I reviewed all the position in the Kamasutra. The fact is that if it was me the protagonist of my night fantasies, I probably woke up with that pleasant sensation of weak legs and voluptuous underbelly. Instead I woke up with spinning bales. This is the reason why, when I come across Mary in the office, I begin pouring my anger toward her: «Stop and don’t you run away as usual! In here is a mess and it’s only your fault. Like at home, you heap everything and never clean up. I spoke with the cleaners and they told me that they don’t even want to enter in our mess. »

  She looks at me with a seraphic air, as if my complaints didn’t hurt her at all.

  «If this is the problem, don’t worry... it’s enough to choose a detainee and order to him to clean the office for you. »

  I look at her astonished, uncertain if believe her words or not.

  «May I do something like that? It’s three days now that you keep on telling me that I shouldn’t give confidence to any detainee, nor to let them know my vulnerabilities, to avoid being trumped. »

  «Yes, but this is an equal exchange. Usually, in change of some little favor, the guys ask you for a packet of cigarettes. Just little stuffs. »

  She gets out of the office and lets me alone. I’m thinking about her advice, when I see a cockroach walking between my feet. What a crop! I hate all living beings with more than four legs. I decide that it’s the right time to intervene and I go toward the cells.

  As soon as I reach the corridor I notice that there’s something strange: the corridor is silent and the cells are empty.

  «Harry, what’s happening today? There’s no living soul in here» I ask to a colleague that comes out from a side walkway.

  «Don’t you know? Thursday it’s visit’s day. They are all in line to see their friends and relatives.»

  I follow him and find the guys gathered along the passage that leads to the room used to the reception of family members. I go to have a peak and suddenly I feel like being in the footsteps of a third rate police movie.

  The detainees talks with their relatives through a thick glass that goes to the ceiling. To overcome this inconvenience, they use a phone. I feel infinitely sorry when I see a child with his face stuck to the glass sending a kiss to his inmate father.

  «Untill last year the glass was only a few dozen inches tall, but they have to set it so high to avoid drugs exchanges» explains Harry, noticing my silence.

  I shake my head as a rejection sign. I don’t like at all what I see, but the thing that disturbs me most, in this entire story, is that three days had been enough not to be surprised by anything, anymore. This jail is a non-place place, where who has the misfortune of staying here, whether for punishment or for working reasons, is soon transformed in a human sub-species. I’m getting so much filled with catastrophic stories that I’m feeling as if I couldn’t care less. All, but that one about Matthew. It makes me so sick, knowing that he abused his sister, that I can’t even look at his face anymore, when I pass near his cell.

  Anyway, coming back to my problem, I think it’s virtually impossible to find someone willing to clean my office, today. They are all so concentrated recovering a little bit of normal everyday life that I couldn’t distract them even if I gave them a pink diamond from South Africa.

  I slowly go back to my office, when a rustle in the cell beside makes me jump. I turn my head to have a look and I find Matthew who’s arranging some books on a fortuitous shelf. What is he doing here? Why isn’t he in line with the others? Bloody hell! I’m experiencing a very strong inner conflict. On one hand there is my brain shouting to run in the office, reminding me a long list of reasons why I should stay away from this cell. On the other hand my body is motionless. Why can’t I go? I’m trying to figure out what is blocking me here, one step away from him. Then I understand. Like the first time I met him, I’m strongly attracted by his swollen biceps, by the big hands, in this moment folded to accommodate the books, crossed by a tangle of blue veins. But, most of all, I also think that I’m attracted by him because of his intellectual way to experience the imprisonment. Mary told me that his misadventure comrades call him “the professor”, because he’s always holding a book. Actually it is difficult to see him otherwise. Every time I pass by, he’s reading a different book and he doesn’t even look at me. Excepting the first day when, with the magnetic power of his grey eyes, he’s been able to make me feel all mess up.

  At a certain point I decide that there’s no longer any reason to stay here spying him, so I move on. As I make the first step toward the office, a warm, vibrant voice stops me.

  «Where are you going? »

  My eyes go wide with astonishment and look at him. Matthew has moved away from the shelf and lean his sculptured torso against the bars. He looks at me as if he was a lion, ready to devour me at the first nod of fear.

  «I have to go back to my office. »

  «Who told you that, Khyla? The doctor? » asks him docking. Hearing my name pronounced by his full lipped mouth, I shiver. A mix between fear and excitement. This guy has a strange power on me and I don’t even know how to react to his provocations. I decide that it’s better to recover a semblance of calm. I just give a hint of a smile and say: «I just decided so. I’m the master of my actions.»

  «Yet untill a few seconds ago, I felt that you were looking for someone. »

  «Yes. Actually I need somebody to clean my office, but I didn’t find anyone. They are all in line to see their relatives. »

  «I’m here. »

  «I can see that by myself, I’m not blind, bu
t I don’t understand why. Isn’t there somebody that comes to visit you?».

  What a stupid question I made. How could I not think about it? Who’s in jail because of having fucked his sister, surely has no relatives willing to come and visit him. A pervert like this is destined to perpetual solitude. My words probably upset him, because on his beautiful face there’s a pain expression, a sort of grimace. But after a moment it flies away and his gaze looks proud again.

  «I relay on myself. Don’t need anyone.»

  «Well, I’ll leave you alone, then, so you can go back to self-gratification. »

  He giggles and suddenly stretches out his hand between the bars and takes my arm, blocking me. How can a simple slight grab cause a pain similar to a burnt? Perhaps is not because of his strength, but because my senses are shaken up.

  «Actually I don’t like to do everything by myself. I prefer couplet jobs. Anyway you’re lucky. Today I want to be kind. I’ll help you to clean the office.

  I retract my hand and say: «What do you want in return? Cigarettes, money, drug? If there’s something I’ve already learned working in here, is that these things don’t come for free. »

  «None of this. It’s just kindness. I’m a good boy, in the end. »

  I know that I’m going to do the biggest foolish thing of the century, but I decide to give him an opportunity. I take the keys and open his cell.

  «Ok, come out. But don’t play tricks on me. »

  He precedes me and I walk holding the only means of defence I have: an iron flashlight. In America everyone can have weapons also without real need, but the prison guards, which have to deal every day with the criminals, can’t have one to defence themselves. As he walks, I split my gaze on his bare buttocks, on his muscled legs, barely concealed by his blue suit. I’m frightened. Not by him, but by myself. I fear this attraction that disrupts my bowels, afraid of being unable to remain cold and imperturbable in front of his clear, almost transparent eyes that smack me whenever they look at me. What’s the matter with me? Why can’t I hold back my feelings? Why can’t I get reason to emerge? Reason tries to tell me that Matthew is a man without morality, a wicked and opportunistic being. The problem is that I can’t hear my reason’s complains. However, my heart goes mad whenever I’m near him.

  Matthew opens the office’s door and begins to pick up the many objects on the floor.

  «For goodness’ sake! To put everything in place it’ll take a week! » he says pointing to me a smile so beautiful that I feel my legs turning to be strawberry jellies. What a cretin I am!

  «Let’s start. There’s no time to lose» I order with an authority I didn’t believe to own. «I’ll set the desk in order and you can throw the waste in the trash near the door. »

  I sit down and start sorting through the documents, with some indolence, to tell the truth. Even though I’m trying to concentrate in my work, I’m distracted by looking at Matthew. Every gesture, even the most simple, has an exceptional erotic power on me. When he bents to pick a paper, when he throws it with a quick movement of the hand, when he wipes the sweat off his brow. Every movement gives me a shiver that runs under my skin. He, instead, moves with confidence, without paying a look at me. I don’t like his indifference. And I don’t even like the heavy air that I’m breathing in this room. We both are oppressed by a heavy silence. I wish to overcome it because I want to know everything about him, but the fear that he could close in himself, blocks me.

  After half an hour of intense work, the office looks more livable. Hearing the steps of the detainees coming back in their cells, accompanied by my colleagues, I realize that it could be counterproductive for me to be found with him.

  «Thank you for your help, Matthew, but it’s time for you to go back in your cell. »

  «What about my reward? » asks him with sure voice.

  «Sorry? Didn’t you say you didn’t want anything in return? »

  He comes closer and, very self-confident, he whispers: «And didn’t you tell me that these things don’t come for free? »

  Before I can answer, he takes me by the neck and kisses me. Taken aback, I retreat against the cold wall. Hell! Why can’t I get rid of his charm? The fact is that he knows how to take me. I don’t go for cuddles and caresses. I like the man who knows what he wants and Matthew, in this moment, wants me and my lips greedy for kisses. With the confidence of those who know, he put his tongue in my mouth and creates a game of contortions so playful that I almost miss my breath. I don’t know how long I can withstand. The desire to have something more than his knowing lips is pressing inside me.

  The more I feel taken by this strong desire, the more the doubts overwhelm me with a pain in the heart. What’s the sense of this enthusiasm about this rapist prisoner? No, I can’t be so fragile and insecure. Just a pair of wonderful eyes and a firm body to touch, can’t make me forget that he fucked his sister, fifteen years old, and made her pregnant. His sister! Not any girl...How much dignity can have a man who can’t keep his desires with a young girl that has his same blood? I have to forgive the taste of his warm skin against mine. Yes I have to succeed, at any rate. I have no other choises. So why, when I think how to get away from him once and for all, do I feel like I’m about to get rid of my same flesh?

  As the noises in the corridor are getting more and more loudly, he steps behind and looks in my eyes.

  «Well, I can go now. But it’s not over. I’ll come back to get what you didn’t give me yet »

  And as I accompany him to his cell, making a weird ride not to arouse suspicions in my colleagues, I think that his words are not a threat, they are a promise.

  CHAPTER 4

  During the last round of patrol I control that all is quite. It’s necessary to admit that this time of the day plays for my benefit: at six in the morning most of the detainees are still sleeping. I look at the wrist-watch and I’m happy to see that I miss a few minutes at the end of my turn. It seems impossible to me that also today I’ve managed to overcome the time spent in here. The night shift is even more unbearable than that of the day. Lack of natural light creates a dummy perception of reality. Without the sun-light inside the structure, the detainees can’t be clearly aware of the passing minutes and hours. They go to bed because we are the ones who tell them to do so.

  I pass in front of Matthew’s cell and I can’t help giving a glance. I see him under the cover with his head facing me. His eyes are closed and the breath is quite. Managing to be very silent not to wake him or his comrades up, I approach the bars. I want to look at him while he’s sleeping, not to be trapped by his gaze. Since he kissed me, I had the confirmation that I feel something special for him. Yet is not easy to give name to this feeling. Attraction? Desire? Or something deeper? Whatever it is, I’m convinced that it depends on his charismatic eyes.

  I scrutinize every corner of his body. My eyes travel from his brown hair to the biceps tattooed with a tribal design. The head with perfect features rests on the towel he uses as a pillow. It’s impossible in jail to have one. Perhaps it is feared that it can be used to suffocate someone or to hide drug or something else.

  I’m so intent looking at Matthew that I don’t even notice the shuffling of steps in the corridor. Only when a peremptory voice comes into my ears, I go away and move to get back to my office.

  «Come on out of bed, sleepyhead! Get up!»

  «What are you doing still here, Khyla? Your turn ended five minutes ago» says Harry giving me an affectionate punch on the shoulder.

  I make one step beyond and answer: «I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll go. Why do you make all this noise to awake the detainees? You’re really disturbing.»

  «It’s evident that you’ve been here for a few days. Don’t you know that once a week they have the right to get out on the roof to do exercises? »

  «Yard time?»

  «Yes. But they are magnanimous and allow them to stay three. »

  I stay thoughtful for a moment and then, in a low voice,
I comment: «Ok, but why do you wake them up so early in the morning? It doesn’t seems right to me.»

  «We do it on purpose. So we have less of them to ward at. At this time many of them prefer to sleep.»

  No, I’ don’t agree in using a ploy just to have less responsibilities and to make less fatigue. I’m about to respond properly, when I feel that the words I had in mind seems to fly away. A slight quick contact is enough to provoke in me a sense of alienation from everything. There’s no need for me to turn to understand that he is behind my shoulder. It’s Matthew. How can I be wrong? I would recognize his perfume between one thousand. In fact I see him gathered with a group of detainees, followed by my colleagues.

  «Did you want to ask me something? » Harry asks, trying to read my mind.

  «Yes. I was saying that I’m going to see how it works. This morning I haven’t much to do. »

  Before he could challenge my decision, I move fast along the corridor. I go up on the roof and see that the detainees are running along the perimeter. I sit aside and cross my legs, pretending to observe the entire group, but actually my attention is catalyzed by Matthew. I notice his sure stride during the race, the way he moves his head to throw away the drops of sweat from his forehead and I really would like to touch him, to go on from the point we stopped the other time. I’m frightened by the thought that all this is driving me crazy. Without any doubt Matthew is really a beautiful boy, one of those able to bring you to madness. Besides, with what other word could I explain my feeling for him? Since I met him, he became my fixation, my worrying thought. He is throwing down all the certainty of the grown self-sufficient woman. So I find myself dealing with another Khyla. Just a fragile victim of a passion. Is it possible that this is enough to justify the sense of addiction that he provokes in me? I can’t give a plausible explanation. That is the passion itself to be the master of the situation is evident, but I feel that it’s not the only element, that there’s something deeper that I can’t understand. While I’m trying to give name to my feelings, I’m sure that if I won’t go along with my desires, I’ll soon implode and there will be no more mental health for me. After ten minutes of race, the detainees stop to take a break. Matthew goes on with some exercises, while the others divide into groups to chat. My colleagues are trying to keep the situation under control, but the roof is too large to have a complete sight on all the detainees.