Then There Was You(24)

“Shaun Toombs!” Officer Blevins’s voice boomed from across the room as he stalked toward us in authoritative fashion. “Stand down now!”

“Don’t do it, Toombs,” I said soothingly, but it was too late.

Toombs jerked from beneath my consoling touch, and swung his fist, narrowly missing me and hitting DeAndre square in the jaw.

Suddenly, as if I were in the agitation cycle of a washing machine, I was being pushed and shoved and jerked around by all of the other guys, who had immediately jumped into the fight.

Boys were throwing punches and spewing profanities, while I felt like I was caught in the middle of rioting mosh pit, getting jostled and stepped on like a rag doll.

An elbow connected with my head and I tumbled to the ground. Intense pain immediately pulsated across my face. Stomping feet and kicking legs closed in around me. I couldn’t stand up. I was tangled in a sea of angry limbs. Out of nowhere, a set of hands grabbed me and pulled me to safety, away from the calamity.

As soon as I was placed gently on the ground and out of harm’s way, I glanced up.

Chris held me by my shoulders. “Oh my god, Mrs. Honeycutt, are you okay?” he asked. Concern filled his voice as he glanced angrily at the boys who’d caused my pain.

My eye throbbed, and my head pounded. The metallic taste of blood was on my tongue.

“Oh, shit. You’re bleeding,” Chris said, distraught, looking around for something to wipe the blood. Using the sleeve of his jumpsuit, he carefully dabbed the blood off my chin, careful not to cause me more pain.

“I’m okay,” I assured him, swallowing back the blood that pooled in my mouth.

Just then, what seemed like a battalion of guards rushed the scene and broke up the brawl, dragging disorderly inmates away in shackles.

Officer Blevins rushed over to us. “Salem! Are you okay?” he asked, as he squatted beside us. Barry normally didn’t use my first name in front of the inmates, but in this case, he was my friend first.

I nodded. “I’m fine. A little shook up, but I’m okay.” My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding in my chest.

“I tried to get to you, but it was too late. Thanks for getting her out, Chris,” he said gratefully, patting him on the back.

Chris nodded with a pale face, seemingly in shock. “She’s bleeding.”

“She’ll be okay. I’ll take it from here, son,” Barry told him.

Abruptly, Officer Harris stalked over and clamped handcuffs on Chris’s wrists, dragging him away.

“Wait,” I called out. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Sorry, Salem,” he apologized. “Everyone here must go to segregation until we can sort this mess out.”

“How long?” I asked panicked, knowing how unhinged a person could become in solitary confinement.

Officer Harris shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not been determined yet, but at least overnight. Maybe several days. Chief Sawyer will probably have to review the tapes.”

“No!” I shouted. “I’m telling you. Chris didn’t do anything.” This is so unfair.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologized, pulling Chris toward the exit.

Chris’s shoulder sank in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” I called after him. “I’ll get you out, okay?”

Chris simply nodded, hanging his head. He shuffled his feet as the officer escorted him across the scuffed floor of the rec room.

“We have to get him out, Barry,” I pleaded. “He didn’t do anything.”

Barry patted my shoulder. “I know, Salem. We will. I’ll do what I can.”

Barry helped me to my feet and ushered me out the door. I walked into the ladies’ restroom and looked at myself in the mirror. As suspected, the bruising around my eye was already beginning to show. My gums had stopped bleeding, and thankfully it looked as though no damage had been done to my teeth.

“Got yourself a nice little shiner,” Val pointed out, as she stepped out of the stall and saw my face in the mirror. “You need to let someone from the medical staff take a look at it.”

“I will,” I told her. “I’m headed that way next.”

In the meantime, I needed to put a bug in her ear about Toombs. “By the way,” I informed her, “Shaun Toombs needs some serious anger management intervention. He’s a ticking time bomb.”

“I’m working on a referral. We should get him into a specialized psychologist soon.”

“Thanks. He needs it,” I said, thankful that the process had already been started. It wasn’t the first time he’d snapped over something minor. He carried a major chip on his shoulder. I’d had him escorted from group therapy sessions a few times before when he was threatening some of the other guys. I wasn’t a psychologist, but I would’ve almost bet money on an Oppositional Defiant diagnosis.