A guard came to collect the bowls. “Prepare for sleep,” he said before closing the cell door.

  Big Dog looked at Bob and extended both hands, still coated in soup. Bob crawled over and licked his fingers clean.

  “You’ve been good lately. Savor the taste. Maybe tomorrow you’ll get your own bowl,” Big Dog said.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Boss. I’ll continue to serve you faithfully,” Bob replied, bowing his head.

  Big Dog wiped his wet hands on Bob’s uniform and said flatly, “Now beat it.”

  Bob hurried back to Joe without hesitation. The display was revolting. Joe nearly gagged but forced himself to stay composed.

  “See?” Bob said with a bright smile. “If you listen, our leader rewards you. Tomorrow I might get my own meal. Isn’t Big Dog a great boss?”

  Joe looked at him with sympathy. ‘Poor guy. He’s like a domesticated pet, all because of that fat bastard,’ he thought.

  Soon after, the lights in the cell and hallway shut off.

  “Well, that’s it for today,” Bob muttered as he curled up and went to sleep.

  Joe glanced toward Big Dog’s corner. He and Shelly were sitting on four flat gray blankets that blended into the floor. Shelly unfolded one and laid it down, folded another into a pillow, and used the remaining two to cover them as she lay beside him. The old man continued playing with dust on the ground, smiling to himself. Joe sat alone. He assumed the lack of a blanket was punishment for being new.

  Sleep did not come easily. As the hours passed, boredom replaced discomfort. Eventually, even the old man drifted off. Joe was the only one awake. He suspected his new Physique improved more than just his attributes. It likely reduced his need for sleep as well. At that moment, it felt more like a curse than a blessing.

  A few hours later, he heard movement. Shelly rose quietly and moved to the opposite wall across from him. Joe watched as she pulled out a small container of ointment and began applying it to her back. Soft sobs escaped her as tears ran down her face. Her hands trembled. In the darkness, she was clearly missing several spots.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe asked quietly, startling her.

  “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, sniffing and wiping her face.

  “Do you want help?” Joe stood and took a few steps forward.

  “Stay back,” Shelly said, extending a hand when she heard him approach.

  “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re hurt. If you don’t treat those wounds properly, they’ll get worse. Let me help.”

  “How can you see in this darkness?”

  “It’s my secret trick.’

  She hesitated, then lowered her hand. Joe took that as permission and sat beside her. Shelly turned her back to him and handed the ointment over her shoulder. Joe unzipped her uniform further to examine the damage.

  Her back was covered in discolored, bruised patches from her neck down. His jaw tightened.

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  “Did that bastard do this to you?”

  She nodded.

  “And you let him?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” she snapped. “He’s much stronger than me.”

  “Fight back.”

  “It’s easy for you to say. You’re new. You don’t know what that monster is like. If you’d seen what he’s capable of, you wouldn’t judge me.”

  “And staying with him while he beats you will change something?”

  “I’m trying to survive,” she said, breaking down again. “Even if it’s just one more day. I want to live.”

  Guilt hit Joe immediately. He had no right to blame her. He remembered how his uncle used him as a punching bag whenever he was drunk. Back then, Joe had endured it in silence and prayed for it to end. Shelly was doing the same. She needed support, not judgment.

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said quietly. “It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

  She buried her face in her arms and sobbed while he applied the ointment carefully. When she flinched, he adjusted his touch and continued more gently.

  “Done,” he said after a few minutes.

  Shelly had stopped crying.

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  Joe zipped her uniform back up, covering the wounds. He wondered why they allowed a woman to stay in a cell full of men. He suspected Big Dog had used his influence to arrange it.

  “Do you want me to stop him? He can’t keep getting away with this,” Joe said.

  “No,” Shelly replied immediately, turning toward him. “If you fight him, you’ll die. Please don’t. I can’t have someone else hurt because of me.”

  “I—”

  “Please,” she interrupted. “Michael is a monster. There’s a reason even some of the guards fear him.”

  “It’s not just about you. He took my dinner too.”

  “Trust me, it’s not worth it. Stay on his good side and you’ll survive. Don’t throw your life away over a pointless fight.”

  Joe saw genuine fear in her eyes.

  “Alright,” he said finally.

  She smiled with visible relief.

  He handed the ointment back. “How did you even get this in here?”

  “You’d be surprised what those perverted guards allow if you smile at them with a pretty face,” she said after wiping her eyes.

  She fixed her hair, then leaned forward and kissed Joe on the right cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered before returning to lie beside Big Dog.

  Joe froze. His mind replayed the moment repeatedly. That was his first kiss. It had been on the cheek, but it still counted. His first kiss happening in prison was strange, but his entire existence was strange. He was living his second life.

  ‘I’m never washing this side of my face again,’ he thought with a foolish grin.

  Morning came. Joe had not slept at all. He feared closing his eyes in case the night turned out to be a dream. Despite staying awake, his body felt fine.

  He made small talk with Bob, who turned out to be far more talkative than expected.

  Breakfast arrived. Just like dinner, Big Dog kept four bowls and gave the fifth to Shelly.

  Joe expected awkwardness after what happened, but Shelly acted normal. Even when their eyes met, she showed no reaction. Joe felt disappointed but accepted that the kiss likely meant less to her than it did to him.

  After the bowls were collected, another guard entered. “Bath time.”

  The men were escorted to a large communal washroom. It was square, with small platforms along the walls. Runes lined the ceiling. When someone stepped onto a platform, the runes above activated and lukewarm water flowed down.

  Joe stood beside the old man from his cell as water poured over them. The old man laughed and clapped while muttering nonsense. Joe wondered what had broken him.

  There was no soap. They were expected to wash with plain water. Joe found it degrading, then reminded himself they were prisoners.

  When he stepped off the platform, a compartment opened in the wall with a neatly folded white towel inside. He dried himself and wrapped it around his waist.

  The old man found his towel and began playing with it. Joe took it and wrapped it around him properly, confusing him.

  As they prepared to leave, another prisoner snatched the old man’s towel.

  “What are you hiding, old man? It’s not like there’s anything impressive down there,” the prisoner mocked.

  “That’s not yours. Give it back,” Joe said.

  The man stepped toward the center of the room and grinned. “Or what?”

  “I’ll kick your ass.”

  The room erupted with cheers. “Fight! Fight!”

  Joe removed his own towel and secured it around the old man before walking toward the prisoner and stopping about ten meters away.

  “You’ve got guts,” the man said. “I’ll make an example of you.”

  He coughed up a small plastic bag filled with red powder. Lifting it to eye level, he grinned. “Perfect timing.”

  He poured the powder into his palm and inhaled it. Seconds later, his muscles swelled and veins bulged beneath his skin. His complexion turned a deep red. He threw his head back and laughed, then fixed Joe with an unhinged stare.

  “Any last words?”