Crying in the Night

I growled as the bawling cut across my dreams.

This was my third night in the box, and I was getting tired of being woken up by the loud crying from somewhere in the Quad. The inmate spent his days in almost abject silence, no one stopping at his cell with mail or call-outs. I never saw them come out for showers, and I don't even think I'd seen them get a tray during meals. All they really did was cry at night and keep the whole block awake.

I huffed out a long-suffering breath and rolled on my bunk. My cellmate, an old guy named Tobbs, looked over the edge at me and shrugged. He reached up to his ears and pulled out a pair of earplugs that he had made from toilet paper, and held them out to me. I just shook my head, knowing they wouldn't block out the crying. After getting zero sleep on the first night, I tried talking to the man and finally gave it up. It seemed that the crying couldn't be blocked out by normal means, and my brain simply couldn't be tired enough to block it out completely.

"It helps a little." Tubbs lied, but he smiled as he said it, the light from outside making his grin look ghastly.

"What's his problem anyway? What's he got to be so upset about?" I asked grumpily.

That wiped the smile off Tubbs's face, and I saw him roll away and face the wall.

"It's best not to think about it. He's just...getting by in his own way."

That seemed to be all Tobbs would say on the matter.

I had been a guest of Stragview Prison for about three years now, but this was my first trip to the box. They had caught me in a shakedown a few weeks ago, and some jackass had decided to hide their drugs under my bunk. The guards hadn't wanted to hear about how it wasn't mine, possession was nine-tenths of the law, and I was processed and whisked off to confinement. Three days later, I was exhausted and ready to snap. I rolled over and tried to block out the crying and get back to sleep.

The next day, I tried to ask Officer Macklen about the inmate, but he just told me to shut the hell up and take my tray. Macklen was a grumpy nightshift guard that seemed to think that "Shut the hell up" was synonymous with "Good Morning" I probably wouldn't get anything out of him, so I figured I'd wait for Dayshift to arrive. Officer Timeous was a pretty bubbly guy, and he could usually be counted on for a conversation.

When Dayshift arrived, though, Timeous looked at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.

"Don't know what the hell you're talking about, Inmate. You must be mistaken." and he wandered on with the call-out sheet.

"Best to just drop it, kid." Tubbs said, "It's just one of those things it's best not to ask about."

I nodded at him, but his answer made me more curious than ever. What was this guy's deal? Was he just crazy or what? And why didn't anyone tell him to shut the hell up? I knew I wasn't the only one he was keeping awake, and the idea of a bunch of cons just letting this guy lose them their hard-earned sleep made my head hurt.

My situation only got worse around lunchtime when Sergeant Mefferd arrived with Timeous and Sergeant Bassford from the Captains' office. They cuffed us, told me to move to the back of the cell, and told Tobbs to approach the door. They opened the door and pulled him out, keeping a wary eye on me like I might charge them in handcuffs. Once he was out, they closed the door and took his handcuffs off, telling him his time was served and his release from confinement was approved. He looked back once, giving me a grin and a thumbs-up as Bassford led him towards the Quad door, towards the outside world.

And just like that, I was stuck in that twelve by eight room by myself.

Most people would have jumped at the chance to have a cell to themselves, but I wasn't as excited as most. Being alone in a small box with only yourself for company gets old pretty quick. With a roommate, you have someone to talk to or play cards with, but alone, it's just you. I sat on my bunk as the Quad buzzed with general noise, and it didn't take long for me to get bored. I spent the rest of the day trying to trade for a book but only managed a ratty magazine that I devoured like a starving man.

That night, the crying started again.

It was just after lights out, and I was exhausted after sleeping so poorly the night before. I had just laid down, getting comfy as I prepare to pass out when the deep, sorrowful crying began again. It echoed through the Quad, bouncing off the walls and seeming to circle like a hunting bird. I heard mutters and sighs, people trying to make the best of their situation and get some sleep, but the wailing just went on and on. It always stopped when one of the guards came in to do around, and I would just get close to falling asleep when they would walk out, and the wailing and crying would start again.

As the sun came up, the crying stopped, but it was too late for sleep by then.

I was exhausted from days on end of having little sleep. I drowsed most of that day, roused for meals, mail call, call-outs, and the other common occurrences that happen in prison. I found myself napping fitfully, fully clothed so I'd be ready if someone important came in, and wanting nothing so much as to sleep for hours on end. Being in confinement, I could sleep if I wanted to, but with no escape from the noise and the bustle, I was left in a state of tiredness, knowing there would be no reprieve tonight.

I blame the lack of sleep for what came next, but I know it wasn't completely due to that.

I was simply the first one to snap.

That second night it all became too much. The crying echoed across the Quad, leaving many of us grumbling but no one willing to say anything to him. This was very odd since I'd heard guys yell at each other over whistling after eight at night, and this guy was getting away with keeping the whole Quad awake. When the officer came around at ten, I tried to get his attention, begging him to tell the guy to shut up. My neighbor tried to shush me, but the guard just rolled his eyes and told me to sit down. I kept calling, but he ignored me, and soon the door was closing behind him.

We all sat in the pregnant silence for a few minutes, and I thought he might have heard me ask the guard to talk to him and realize he was a nuisance. I lay down on my bunk, the crunchy plastic mat sitting firmly against the hard metal rack, and closed my eyes as I tried to sleep. Maybe he would be quiet now. Maybe he was just sane enough to realize he was driving us all nuts. Maybe he realized that, scared or not, someone would remember that he had kept them awake when they both got back to the yard and that someone would probably put a knife in him.

I was almost asleep when the wailing echoed out again, louder than ever.

That was when I snapped.

"SHUT UP! Just shut the hell up! People are trying to sleep!"

I came up off my bunk, face pressed against the glass on the door, as I yelled into the Quad at the stupid idiot who was crying. I didn't care if the guards heard me or not at that moment. I just wanted this idiot to quiet down so I could sleep. Other people in the Quad tried to shush me, telling me to be quiet before he heard me, but I didn't care.

I wanted him to know what an asshole he was being, and I wanted him to stop his stupid wailing.

When my yelling stopped echoing around the Quad, I realized that the wailing had stopped. The silence that followed was oppressive. The absence of the wailing now seemed strange, and the pregnant silence of my fellow inmates was equally as odd. I hadn't expected full-fledged applause, but I had expected a few complimentary comments. People usually celebrated someone willing to tell off a noisy inmate, and their lack of any kind of talk made me nervous. I went and sat back down, leaving the Quad in a state of absolute silence, as my eyes slid shut and I started trying to get some sleep. Who knew how long this wacko would be quiet for, and I wanted to get a little shut-eye before he started crying again.

I had just started to slip off when I heard it.

Tap tap tap tap

Someone was tapping the glass of my cell door. I tried to ignore it. Maybe it was one of the guards wondering why I'd been yelling, and if I just ignored them, then they would assume I was asleep. I felt my tired mind trying to slip off again when the tapping came a second time.

Tap tap tap tap.

I sighed and sat up, looking at the glass on the door. They probably wanted to remind me of the rules. They made you sign a big long list of rules before you got a call, and one of them was not yelling into the Quad. Some guard who thought he was cute and wanted to "remind me of the rules" just to be a dick.

I got half off my bunk before I caught a good look at the face on the other side of the glass.

It was white, its eyes like hollow pits, and the finger it raised was crusty with old blood.

I moved as far away from the door as my bunk would allow, screaming and thrashing as it stood tapping at my door. The finger tapped again and again as I tried to ignore it. I slid under my blankets, but they did little to block out the sound of those dead fingers tapping. I put my pillow over my head, but the hard canvas thing did nothing to block out the constant tapping. Who the hell was this? Was this some crazy inmate who had gotten out? Some guard playing tricks? I wrapped the sheet and blanket around myself as I tried to block him out, secure in the knowledge that at least I was safe behind that big rolling door.

I lay under the scratchy blankets for a few more seconds, dreading the taps but listening for them nonetheless. The darkness beneath my blanket was broken by shafts of light as they cut through the thin material. The light streamed unhampered through the little glass of the door, and its uninterrupted shining made me realize that the face was no longer there. What was more, the tapping had stopped, and I felt a sigh slip out as I realized that whatever it was had moved on.

I slid the covers down a little and glanced at the door, feeling relieved at the empty window before rolling onto my side to try and get some sleep.

Just as my eyes closed, my head facing the familiar gray wall, did I see him leaning there amongst the shadows. He looked bored, unsure of himself, and now that I could see him clearly, he appeared young indeed. His eyes were black, sunken pits that seemed devoid of any means of seeing. He was skinny to the point of emaciation, and his grimy hands constantly gripped at the waistband of his prison uniform pants. His nails made a whispery sound against the fabric, and his long dirty nails were crusted with a rusty red residue.

As we made eye contact, I could see the residue's source.

His throat had been cut deep enough to nearly detach the head and gaped at me like a leering mouth.

I had only a matter of seconds to take all this in before I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

There was little else I could do. I couldn't escape him; that door wouldn't open no matter how hard I pulled at it. He didn't seem to want to jump on me and kill me, not yet anyway, and his silent watching made me think I could just ignore him. The idea of sleeping with this thing in the room was not an option, though. My only hope seemed to be to wait for the guard to come by on around and notice it here. What would they do if they saw it, though? Would they get rid of it? Could they get rid of it?

My eyes pulsed behind my eyelids, hearing the whispery sounds its nails made against its pants. The stiller I got, the more I became aware of its raspy breathing as it loomed against the wall. The darkness behind my eyelids seemed like a breath of fresh air compared to the nightmare that now inhabited my cell. I tried to stop myself from shuddering as I lay there, hearing its breathing and wishing for the wailing. The wailing would have droned out the scrabbling of its claws and the sucking gasps from its neck wound.

Its flat foot made a plopping sound when it took a step towards me.

I quivered beneath my blankets, hearing the harsh sound of its breath as it slithered through the neck wound. It took another step, the scritch scratch of its nails having stopped now as it stepped closer. The cell was small, and it didn't have far to come before it was very close to my exposed face. I kept my eyes shut tight, the rattling of its damaged throat right in my face, and I had to work very hard not to start hyperventilating. It was close young to shred my face with those crusty blood nails, and I remembered thinking that if I could just get through this without shaking to pieces, I'd be very lucky.

I wasn't aware right away when the breathing left, but when the cell lights came on, I knew I had been trying to scream for nearly six hours.

I couldn't sleep that day either.

It wouldn't come out during the day time, but I knew it was there. If I lay on my bunk, I could hear that raspy neck breathing from under my bed as it hid in the dark crevices. It didn't like the light, it seemed, and would only come at night so it could hide in the dark corners and watch me. No one would talk to me, I had become a social pariah, and I sat in contemplation for most of the day, trying to figure out how to make this creature leave me alone.

It was a long and boring day, and I had plenty of time to think, plenty of time to plan.

The longer I thought about it, the more I believed that it had been the wailing that kept it away. The creature must have been afraid of the wailing inmate who lived in that room. Had I hurt his feelings or something? I needed to figure out how to make him start wailing again. If it scared this thing away, it would be worth the sleepless nights. I tried talking to him through the great in the back window, tried sending him kites under the door, but nothing seemed to get his attention.

After yelling myself hoarse and using all the paper I had in my possession, I felt like I had one chance.

Tomorrow was one of three shower nights we had every week. The guards always took me to the shower nearest my cell, the cell nearest to his cell. I could talk to him, make him understand how sorry I was. Maybe he would understand why I needed him to keep crying.

I just had to make it one more night.

That night was the worst night of my life. When the lights went out, that creature came slithering out from under the metal rack. I heard his nails scraping on the concrete floor as he drug himself out and turned my head to the wall as he rose to his full height. I couldn't see him, he couldn't get between the wall and my face, but I could see his shadow across the wall as he loomed over my prone form. His heavy breathing filled the cell as he rasped and husked, and I believed I would go crazy as I lay there and watched his shadow. I was exhausted, near to my breaking point, but my fear kept me from snatching more than a few seconds of sleep at a time. My biggest fear was that he would simply fall on me and devour me, or slither into my bed and wrap his long pale arms around me before breaking me like kindling. I didn't know what he wanted, was no closer to finding out what he wanted, but he spent that night much as he had the one before it, bent over me and breathing soupily.

When the cell lights came up, I breathed a sigh of relief as his shadow left me.

I got up and moved to the top bunk. The bare mattress was cold against my skin, but I didn't care. I lay dozing, listening to his thick breathing and feeling afraid all over again. Guards offered me food, offered me rec, offered me cleaning supplies to clean my cell, but I spent the whole day ignoring them as I lay in a state of fitful insomnia. I was too afraid to sleep, too tired to stay fully awake, and as the sun went down, I knew it was nearly time to enact my plan.

I couldn't weather another night like the last two.

I stripped to my boxers, grabbed my towel, and was waiting when they came to get me. I kept close to the wall, aware that this was his time, even if the lights were on, and not wanting to get grabbed and miss my chance. I could still hear him under the bed, and I knew that all he was waiting for was a chance. When the flap came down, and the guard told me to "cuff up," I put my hands out and was restrained before the door rolled open. I walked out, turning towards the shower, before breaking away and running for the cell nearest the shower. The guard stumbled, yelling as he fell on his backside, and I heard the angry feet of his partner coming from close by. I'd only get one shot at this, and as I hit the door, I began to plead my case. I was sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to him like that, please start crying again so the creature in my cell would…

Before the guards hit me, I noticed my miscalculation.

The cell was empty, free of inmates or mats or anything.

There had never been anyone in that cell.

Correction, there had been someone in that cell.

When the guards tackled me, they dropped me on my jaw and dislocated it. A little overzealous, maybe, but they saved me in the long run. When they realized what had happened, they took me to the infirmary so the nurses could reset my jaw. They wanted X-rays, wanted a second opinion, and I had been checked into the infirmary for the night. As I lay here, jaw hurting, I write this in my journal so that someone will know what has become of me when I return to my cell. I don't know what it wants, but I know why it's haunting me. I called it out, I acknowledged it, and now it haunts me. It hasn't followed me here, this is not the place it is tied to, but if I return to that cell, they will find me dead in that place.

The creature is the source of the wailing, but its constant staring is far worse than the nightly caterwauling.

If they put me back in that cell, it won't have to kill me.

A few more nights of that, and I'll do it myself.