Solitary confinement was torture to some degrees, especially those that lasted for too long. Many people had spoken for it to be banned, including Olay. When he was still a good citizen, he hated and even wrote letters to protest against it. Humans are social animal. Some things are just human nature. Prolonged isolation could cause severe harm to one’s mental health. Therefore, most of the confinements were only for two or three days, and even that was formidable enough. In a completely isolated, dark room, an hour would feel longer than a year.
The special treatment they gave to William might be due to the fact that he was, at least previously, their peer. What had happened to William, might one day happened to them. Therefore, their attitude towards him was tender. However, attacking a policeman was a different case after all – they sentenced him to a month of confinement.
It was always easier to raise public rage by hurting a cop. Olay had no idea how it ended up so horribly. He worried about William a lot. Hill was badly hurt, but at least he didn’t die.
He met Hill again after a week, when he still had white bandages around his head. At that time, Olay could not stop worrying about William. He could imagine William suffering from psychological torture every moment, which was an unbearable thought to him. Until Hill showed up and gestured him to go to his office. Olay closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He cursed and walked over.
“Minor concussion. Your little lover really hit me hard. Good that he’s not here right now, otherwise I don’t dare to visit you.” Hill said, taking a sip of wine. Theoretically alcohol was not allowed in the office, but that was just theoretically.
Olay just glared coldly at him, keeping his mouth shut. He was sitting in a chair with his hands cuffed to his back. He had zero desire to talk to this man.
The next moment Hill was furious. He smashed the glass on the floor, and shouted, “Did you hear what he said about me? He called me an ‘asshole’!”
He heard it? Olay was surprised. He didn’t understand why that word triggered Hill so much. The broken glass was all over the floor. Hill waved his arms wildly and screamed, “He called me an asshole! Motherfucker, how dare he say that to me–“
His fist was clenched tightly. He gasped heavily, but eventually quieted down in defeat. The person he really wanted to talk to was not there. Olay hesitated for a little. The blue-green eyes of Hill was watching him with the teary look which he had a deep impression of. Those eyes could easily made him feel guilty.
“I can’t help you much, Sir.” Olay said.
Hill was surprised, then laughed, “Oh, at least you can let me vent on you tonight. I am in bad mood.” He got another glass and filled it, then glanced at Olay, “Do you want to drink?”
Olay wasn’t sure what his suggestion meant. It was not difficult to get cigarettes in the prison, but it was hard to get alcohol. Most of the time, alcohol was the source of all impulse and troubles. He did not say anything, but Hill put the cup next to his lips. He drank it carefully. It had been a long time since he last tasted wine.
The red liquid was warm. It soon filled his arms and legs, and flowed through his veins. His body felt warm, even slightly burning. When Hill put the third cup next to him, Olay shook his head, “I am getting drunk.”
“It’s okay. You will be sleeping here tonight.” Hill said, pressing the glass to his lips.
Olay looked at him skeptically. He slightly suspected that instead of sleeping here, he might not be able to walk out from here alive. Hill’s eyes were almost expectant, which was a scary thing when it was a prison guard who gave that look to his prisoner. And he never had mercy on him.
He drank a few more cups, then heard Hill’s voice from a distance, “I know you have low tolerance.”
Olay lifted his head, and saw two figures in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m drunk.” He laughed, “The room is spinning – ” The next second he was thrown on the floor. Before he realized what happened, someone’s lips violently blocked his. He tasted blood – that man almost wanted to swallow him.
“Most people like to laugh when they are drunk, and I want to see you laugh.” Hill said. Olay’s lips were slightly open. He stared at the ceiling, then shook his head violently trying to sober himself up. He saw the expression of the brown-haired man was almost hysterical. “You drank too much, Sir.”
“Perhaps.” Hill said. He sat up and ripped open his shirt, then his pants. Olay lay still and let him do it.
“You know why I always come after you, Olay?” Hill asked, not slowing down his hands. Olay did not answer him, but apparently Hill didn’t care. He kept complaining, “This is one hell of a shithole. But you are different. When you smile…… I feel…… Damn it, I don’t know how to phrase it…… I hate it! I hate this place! This place is suffocating! Olay…… Help me…… Save me……” He said, fingers grabbing Olay’s collar tightly, trembling helplessly.
“You have the wrong person, Sir. I am not Jesus.” Olay said, surprised that this guy was drunk before him did.
Hill shook his head weakly. Under the light, his hair color was warm. “I didn’t mean that……” He said faintly.
Olay’s black eyes fixated on him, “I’ve already answered, Sir. I am not of help. No one can save another human being.”
“Damn it!” Hill sweared, “But you smiled at that William. You smiled at him more than all the times you smiled at me. You two stay together almost as if you guys are dating!”
“To hell it’s different!” Hill picked him up. He wanted to shout something at him but gave up in the end. He put Olay back, and nodded, “Fine, different. But you can’t for fuck’s sake get rid of me. You are mine! At least here, tonight…… You still have to let me have fun with your body. I don’t fucking care who your soul belongs to, but your body belongs to me!”
He yanked his pants to the knees, admiring the exposed, naked body. Olay did not resist much except for his shortened breath. He had learnt to submit, because resisting had caused him enough suffering, and he knew that it would result in nothing.
Hill untied the baton from his waist, which was covered in his own blood a week ago. He lifted up Olay’s penis with that cold hard thing, and inspected it like inspecting goods. Then he inserted the baton between his legs, rubbing it against the sensitive area. He could see the tiny sweat drops on Olay’s tightened body. At least he belongs to me at this moment. He thought, I rule him.
Feeling Olay’s legs tensed up instinctively, he shook his head, “Tsk, looks like you still don’t know how to please a man. Spread your legs…… Oh, let me teach you.”
He pulled apart his legs, and jammed his body in between forcefully. The long thick baton frightened Olay, who tried to close his legs but failed. The tip of the baton mercilessly rubbed and poked on his inner thighs, and the area between them. Shivers ran across his body. In the end, the baton stopped outside of his hole, and tried to stab in.
Hill’s violent movements gave him great pain. His hole was tightly locked, resisting the attack of a foreign object. Olay wriggled in attempt to dodge it, but Hill dragged him back in anger, “Darling, be cooperative. Oh, it’s so tight……” He complained.
“Stop it……” Olay begged. Hill’s movement got more and more violent. The harassment of his private part was unbearable for him. But before his words ended, the baton beat harshly on his belly. Hill screamed at him, “You are not going to tell me what to do!”
Olay felt his guts were broken. The sharp pain in his belly made his body cramp, and drenched him in cold sweats. He curled up, but the pain didn’t go away. It spreaded to his arms and legs, to the entire body. He heaves, but he can’t throw up. Only pain was crazily torturing his nerve.
This way of beating was common in the jail. It couldn’t kill, and the bruise couldn’t be seen on the surface. But it was enough to make you hard to eat or sleep for days.
Hill turned him around, lifted his butt, and thrust the baton in from behind, stirring violently. Sweats and tears dripped from Olay’s forehead, drenching the floor. Hill could see Olay’s body cramping in pain, and hear his hoarse, suppressed screams.
Olay couldn’t tell who was suffering more between William and himself. The torture was on body and on soul respectively.