Captain burst out laughing. “A nightmare? Nightmares aren’t real. Everything I saw, the emotions in my mind, the pain in my chest, it’s real.” He lifted his hands above him, and they trembled wildly. “I need a drink.”

“You won’t be having one of those for the next five years.”

He laughed again, and Rory watched the tears run from his eyes. He sobbed while he laughed, and the sound and sight were hard to watch, and equally hard to look away from. Rory stared down at his feet until a guard grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards his bed.

“You’ve got one more hour of shut eye.”

Rory lay back down on the mattress, but didn’t get under the sheet. He didn’t want any obstacle tripping him if he had to launch from the bed again. He felt Captain’s eyes on him, and they made his heart thump. He glanced up and linked eyes with the strained ones watching him.

“Did I wake you?”

Rory shrugged and looked away. “I was half awake anyway.”

Captain snorted, then rolled over to face the wall. Rory could see the back of his t-shirt was drenched in sweat. His hair was kept military short, and when they went through the booking in process, his dog tags had been around his neck. He’d been forced to place them in a box for his eventual release.

“Hey…”

Rory turned over and looked at the inmate to his right. With his brain functioning again, he remembered the guy’s name was Ollie. Ollie was in for nine years. Rory didn’t ask what for, that wasn’t the done thing. Inmates asked about time and worked out the severity of the crime from there.

Rory craned his neck closer to Ollie’s bed, and he did the same.

“What?”

“Hope I’m not sharing a cell with him.”

Rory snorted. “That’s not funny.”

“Just saying, I damn near shit myself.”

Rory sniffed loudly, frowned, then murmured, “You sure you didn’t?”

“Screw you.”

There was humor in his tone, and Rory smiled.

They were going on to the wing that morning and Rory was thankful he was going with company. The three of them had only met the day before. Captain had been unnervingly quiet, but Ollie rattled with nerves.

Captain was in for five years and Ollie for nine. By inmates’ reasoning, Ollie must’ve done the worst crime, but looking at him—young, slim, and a head of boyish blond hair—it was hard to imagine he had done worse than the scarred military man on Rory’s left.

He had told Captain and Ollie he was in for eight years.

It was a lie.

Rory didn’t need to ask what Ollie or Captain had been convicted of. He already knew.