Page 3 of Masked Instincts

I was in Cali State Penitentiary. A two-hour drive from what Mama and I called home, but the second I stepped onto fresh soil, I bailed across the country just to find myself here in this small Connecticut town.

“Nonsense, you fool. I could slap you upside the head for not even calling me! Where are you, baby boy? I want to see you,” she says quietly. I try to focus on her words, but all I can hear is the sniffling and the sound of her heart shattering all over again.

“I’m in Connecticut, Ma. I got as far away as I could. I’m not quite sure what drew me here,” I admit. But maybe it was Luna that drew me here.

My soul and hers knew that we needed one another. Our paths may not have connected yet, but inevitably they will, only to end in destruction. That’s how my life goes. Anyone that becomes a part of me gets ruined, but I’ll be glad to fucking ruin her.

“I’ll come there. I want to see my boy,” she says more sternly.

“No, Mama. Don’t come here,” I rasp. Running my fingers through my dark, short hair, I feel I’m doing the worst. Causing my mother’s pain.

“Why not?” She snaps. “No one is going to stop me from hopping on a plane to come find you. I can find you if you don’t tell me yourself.”

I remain silent as I turn my attention back to Luna’s window. She’s standing at her bedside table, staring at a little pink envelope I left her. It’s a gift certificate to Sip, Sit, Read. The coffee shop where she spends most of her time— if she’s not at the library. It’s right downtown, a quick walk or rollerblade ride from campus.

Her head spins around, quickly, as she watches for a sign of someone, but of course, no one is fucking there. I’m not an idiot. She won’t see me until I want her to.

“What are you doing?” Mama’s voice snaps me back to the call.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“You’re breathing heavily.”

Yeah, Mama. I have a raging erection that’s being contained from staring at a girl because this need runs too deep.

I’m two seconds away from hanging up on my mother and letting off behind this tree. Maybe Luna would find the mess and know it was me because like I said, our souls know each other. We are made for one another, I just know it.

My fucking moon.

“I’m not doing anything,” I grind out forcefully.

“Are you getting into trouble?”

“No.”

“Do you need money? Help? How are you getting by?” She deserves an answer to all these questions, but I’m not in the mood to give one.

“Mama, I’m fine. I’ll call, okay? Love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I had to find out by the police pounding on my door! You are an imbecile for escaping, but I’m gonna keep this secret. You are my one and only baby, Jaxy. It was hard enough to find this phone number, but… I have my ways."

“I know. I’m sorry. I have to go.” I hang up before she can rail me another one. This woman has done everything for me and she’s the reason I even ended up in prison in the first place. My dumb, piece of shit father would barely take his hands off her. If he did, it was to put one on me instead. I ended it. I couldn’t stand to see him touch her once more and the police were useless.

It was self-defense, but the justice system mistreated me. Mama pleaded, saying that what I did was the right thing, but I was sentenced to three years.

My sentence only continued to grow with every fucked up thing I did while locked up until three years became ten. Day after day went by as I grew mentally weaker and weaker until I was a walking zombie, lashing out at every person who dared to look at me wrong. Speak to me wrong. Touch me wrong.

I trail my fingers along my face feeling the rise and indents of the scar on my cheek.

The things I did will live with me forever.

When I slide my phone back into my pocket, I pull a pack of cigarettes out. Flipping open the lid, I pull one out with my mouth as I duck further into the trees. The flame of the lighter fuels the cherry on the end, bringing the cigarette to life. I suck in a sharp breath of tobacco and let it flow through my veins. It’s harsh on my lungs, making me almost regret my choice to smoke, but by the time the butt reaches its end, my head is buzzing and I feel okay.

I’ll use substances to get by, but I’ll never stoop to the level of my father.

three

LUNA