It seemed that between Henry's visit and my grandmother's visit had been 2 weeks. That was at least what I heard guards commenting on. I can now definitely say that I either fall unconscious for longer periods or that I have some kind of blackout. It wasn't more than a few minutes for me.
I was brought back to my old cell, back to my mate. Seeing the fat guy again, I grinned. After turning my back to the prison door for the guards to uncuff me. I saw him standing up and coming to me.
"Missed me?" I asked and saw him nodding. He seemed to have been worried.
"I was just on a short vacation; now I am back." We sat on the floor again, and this forgotten urge to speak was back again.
"How were you? What were you doing? My grandma visits me, and I tell you, the older she gets, the stronger she becomes! And I have a new attorney, a younger guy, a miracle child, my grandma said…though I don't know why he is called one." My little big cellmate nodded, being all ears.
I didn't mention my ability anymore because I didn't want my little mate to get in the pinch. Although he already knew more or less, more on the 'more' side.
Ah, damn. But does it matter? Even if they experiment on me, and in the case that the future can't be changed, I will be a free man anyway. Should I get myself more tattoos, to make sure?
"Hey, where are people getting tattoos in prison?" I asked him while patting his shoulder and flipping the coin. Gold, no future in sight.
My cellmate pointed at the floor.
"Oh. So they do it themselves, right? The prison people? Damn, no." The tattoos I saw looked better than some murky black prison-art. So future-Kenny would get out and get them first thing?
Or had future-Kenny seen the future already and had gotten the tattoos to make sure the future would happen, like I am contemplating doing just now? Is this ability of mine an endless future carousel, and when yes, who was the first Kenny, and why was he hellbent on getting himself tattooed when the world was going down?
Is there even a future of myself that doesn't know the future? No idea.
A bit later, we were cuffed for lunch. Nobody cursed me as we walked silently in a row, and I grinned, reveling in the feeling of power.
Very nice, so there were rumors about me.
I finally got to see the dining room. It was like a big cafeteria, reminding me of my school. Really, a massive room, though. Everyone's hands were uncuffed, which was necessary for eating but struck me as odd. Though our feet were still cuffed, with our hands free, fighting was a lot easier.
We stood in rows to wait to get our food, which was given out by prisoners with guards behind them. Altogether, there were countless guards.
I got my food, and although there were a bunch of eyes on me, in this mass of prisoners, nobody searched for a fight or made dumb comments. Very good.
I waited for my cellmate, and we walked to an empty desk, sitting down.
Nobody sat with us when I dug in. My first real meal since forever. It was good—better than I thought prison food would taste. I was just a bit grossed out that it had been prisoners who cooked it. But this was no problem that my freshly gained appetite couldn't tackle.
However, when I saw out of the corner of my eye that my cellmate had stopped eating and heard a few murmurs and rumbles, I turned around.
And I saw a gigantic man with blue eyes before me. Not the blue of Henry but lighter, nearly looking silver. The most noteworthy was his bald head and the symbol etched on his forehead, showing which side in the second world war he would be on.
What the fuck? I snaked a hand under the table and got my kitchen knife. Conjuring it up so often, even in my time in the solitary cell, helped me, so I just needed to make the 'coin'-throw motion along with the 'catch' motion slightly to get it in my hands.
I was ready to attack anytime. The guards seemed to ignore the guy who stood next to me without sitting.
"You were in the solitary cell, right? We talked for a moment! And? Has it gotten easier?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.
"Don't know." Was this really just a little nice talk between prisoners?
"Oh, that?" He pointed at his forehead before taking a seat beside me.
"Don't mind it."
I saw a few other bald guys eying us a few tables away. Gazing between the gigantic man and my cellmate.
He leaned in to me, and I was ready to slaughter him. My body arched in expectation of a fight, and the knife gripped tightly.
"You made yourself a name already. I think we can become friends." He smiled.
"Don't you have a bunch of friends already?" I asked back, motioning to the guys staring at us.
"I wouldn't call them friends. I am their leader." He chuckled before digging in. Besides this disturbing revelation, I relaxed somewhat because he ate; if he eats, he is unlikely to attack. Looking at my cellmate, I saw him bowing his head and also eating.
"You won't believe me, but I am not approving of what they do. I just didn't want to get into trouble, so I went with them."
I grazed his shoulder and flipped the coin, repeating 'Forehead scar' in my mind. All the while, I made sure to not forget the time my knife would disappear.
Gold, back of the hand, correct past, ears and eyes uncovered.
A few young men surround a big blonde man, beating him. One takes a knife and laughs. The man pleads with them to stop it, as they carve a symbol deeply in his skin.
Coming back, I shuddered. Damn, that wasn't a pretty sight, poor dude. I flipped the coin repeatedly and watched the gigantic man visiting doctors and specialists; besides them all having prejudice, they told him that there was no way to remove the scar because it was too deep.
How he tries to injure himself, to at least change the symbol, and how he can't go through with it. How he is convicted for the murderer of a Jewish girl, though he wasn't even in the vicinity.
This man couldn't harm a fly.
"Ever thought of getting a tattoo over that?" I asked him, and he looked at me in surprise, either not having thought that I would believe him, or surprised by the topic still being that scar. Well, how could it not?
"I already have an appointment. The guy will come here, one of my privileges."
"Is he good?" I asked, thinking about the future.
"He is; I will introduce you."