Captivity is having a weak companion 🌻

~★~
Zolani
~★~

I didn't want to be in the same cell as Lebo. I pleaded and pleaded inwardly to anyone that would answer. I couldn't be in the same cell as him.

But as the warden led us down the hallway, the taunts of the prisoners continued and each time a man went into a cell, the warden chose.

Unfortunately for me, each and every time that man wasn't Lebo.

There were only three of us left. Lebo, this other guy and me. The warden stopped at a particular cell.

The prisoners locked in this cell didn't laugh, curse or taunt like the other prisoners had been doing.

They were dead quiet, standing in dominating stances.

It was their eyes.

It was their eyes that did all the talking.

They stared down at the three of us with looks that made my bones melt.

It felt like the noisy hallway suddenly went eerily quiet as everyone waited to see who would be admitted into this cell.

The atmosphere was tense, the warden stared at his notebook.

“Inmate 3622 and Inmate 3623. Cell 28.”

His words hung in the air, a death sentence.

Lebo was going to be in the same cell as me. I couldn't believe the fate I had.

Besides that, it had to be the cell that looked to be holding the most dangerous criminals in the country.

Lebo stepped behind me and the irritation within me would have burst out if it wasn't for the crippling fear that turned my heart to ice.

“Didn't you hear me?Get in!” The warden keyed open the cell, and shoved me in first.

I almost fell with the force of his push but I caught myself. The cell shut behind Lebo and I, finalizing our fate.

The warden passed by cell 28, leaving the air tense.

I kept my face neutral and my head held down  forcing my melted bones to be hard, to be strong.

I calmed my racing heart with soft harsh breaths.

I heard a whimper from right beside me. It was Lebo.

It couldn't be anyone else but Lebo.

One of the prisoners in our cell prodded his bruised ribs.

“Already causing trouble on your first day.” The man's gravelly voice remarked.

“What's your name?” The same man demanded.

“L-lebo,” his voice wavered, much to the amusement of everyone in the room.

I took a risk and slightly lifted my head, there were six men in  cell twenty eight. Lebo and I  would make it eight.

They all looked older than twenty five,  tattooed and visibly strong. All of them had a permanent sneer on their faces.

I hated them already.

“What's a frog like you doing in a place like this?” One of the men seated on the bed taunted Lebo.

This made the six men in cell twenty eight laugh loudly, their cackles filled my ears, unpleasant.

“I-” Lebo continued to stutter, adding to their amusement.

I wished I could blur out Lebo’s voice— his existence out of the cell.

“Open your mouth and speak!” That man with the gravelly voice said, then I heard a loud smack.

It sent a shock through my frozen heart. I turned around to see Lebo had been slapped so hard he landed on his knees, lips bloody.

“This can't be right.” Lebo spoke in a new found defiance. “ I have rights. You can't do this to us.”

Why was he adding me into this?

“Rights!” One of the prisoners repeated, like it was a foreign world.

“There's no such thing as rights here.” A deep voice said, and all the attention landed on that voice.

Curious, I turned to see a tall, light skinned man with tattoos that covered every inch of his skin. He stood by one of the beds smoking.

On his left arm, tatted in bold was a roaring tiger.

He blew whatever he was smoking my way, and the whiff of it made me want to get more air.

He wasn't as bulky as all the other guys but the sinister look in his dark eyes showed me who the King of cell twenty eight was.

“I'm Tiger.”

With a name like that, I hated him already.

I scoffed, inwardly.

Tiger  took steps towards me, his  steely gaze  met mine but before I could take another breath  he passed right by me.

Tiger pulled Lebo by his orange collar to the center of the cell.

It bothered me how none of them gave me any attention. I could clearly see that they could see me.

Why weren't they acknowledging me?

What game were they playing?

Lebo’s innocent dark eyes were frightened, his gaze flicked to me for a moment but I looked away that very second.

“Age?” Tiger asked Lebo.

“...Nineteen.”

Tiger cackled, and then with the boots he wore he kicked Lebo on his bruised ribs, hard.

Lebo groaned a guttural sound, biting his lips, holding in the pain. I saw the fiery look in his eyes, not wanting to give the prisoners any more satisfaction from his weakness.

Tiger seemed irritated from that. He kicked him harder, making Lebo cry out, his lips parting in pain. Tiger's lips twitched with a whisper of a smile.

I hated him so much.

The hatred within me for him brewed more and more each second.

Tiger kicked him again and again, a smile curving up his face the more Lebo cried and groaned.

The tears leaked out of Lebo’s dark eyes and the sight tore at my heart but I forced my heart to stay hard. To keep my distance even in empathy.

This was a prison, a whole new world.

Tiger’s boot rested on the floor, the five other prisoners laughed at Lebo’s weakened state.

Lebo couldn't stop crying, he was shouting for the wardens but no one came to his rescue.

“Stop yelling.” Tiger threatened Lebo. His boot was about to kick Lebo in the face but I just couldn't take it.

My instincts kicked in and before Tiger could land another kick, I pushed him off Lebo and he landed shoulder first on one of the hard beds.

“Let go of him!”

The atmosphere in the cell changed, all eyes were on me, including Lebo who was still crying.

“You were right Tiger!” The gravelly voice one said, laughter touching his voice.

“I told you, Dumisani, that he’s the hero.” Tiger lifted himself off the bed, a smile curving up his lips, showing his crooked teeth.

Hero?

It was a trap. It was a trap and I fell
right into it.

Tiger made his way towards me and  stopped right in front of me. He was a foot taller than me, visibly stronger.

He was a man.

I was a boy, who just turned eighteen and it was still my birthday.

He had the advantage in every way.

“You see that thing you just did there?” Tiger questioned me. “ We'll be having none of it here. I make the rules. What I say goes and you take it whether you like it or not. Understood.”

After a tense second.

“Understood.”

“Your name Mr Hero?” Tiger taunted, chuckling after his sentence.

“Zolani.”

Tiger nodded, then he turned his back on me. He  walked away and climbed up the third bunk bed, laying on his back, smoking.

He looked me in my eyes. “ Guys. Show Zolani here. What we do to heroes.”

And that's how on my birthday I was ‘gifted the beating of my life. Brutal and painful would not justify it. They beat me hard enough for it to hurt but not to break my bones.

I didn't cry, forcing the tears to stay at bay. I didn't yell out in pain , biting down on my lip so hard it bled. I didn't show them how much they hurt me, I promised myself to not give them that satisfaction.

~★~

It was lunch time. A loud siren elicited, resounding throughout Glendale prison and the prison doors were opened.

My cellmates all stepped out without even sparring me a glance. After the beating they left me in the corner to heal in silence, I held back every sob and scream.

I was glad that they kept Lebo far from me. I wanted to keep it that way.

My bones screamed in pain as I stood up, walking out the cell door in slow steps. I walked through the throng of prisoners who made their way to the cafeteria.

I got a few glances because of how beaten up I looked but besides that, I was one of them.

The cafeteria was coloured in that pitch colour. From the walls to the floors, except for the  large grey cafeteria tables that filled the place.

I saw men of every race and culture. I saw men of every age above eighteen and it all flashed before my eyes in this slow introduction to my miserable life.

I stepped into the long line,the chatter passing by my ears as I focused on that numb feeling in my heart. I didn't have to pretend to keep my face neutral, I could tell that the hardness of my expression was slowly becoming natural.

A man stepped behind me. “ I heard that the food tastes good on Sundays. That's when we get meat.”

Unfortunately that voice couldn't have been anyone else but Lebo.

“My grandfather wouldn't like this place one bit. He ate meat every day, and each time my Gogo didn't add meat to the food, he'd refuse to eat.”

The line was so slow. I wanted it to move ahead so that Lebo would stop talking with me. I wanted to eat. I was so hungry, a clawing feeling settled in my stomach.

“You're not much of a talker. Are you?”

“...”

The prisoner in front of me moved a step ahead, I followed.

Lebo finally ran out of things to say to me, I almost smiled. The line also started moving ahead faster.

The bowls and utensils were made of a plastic material. When my turn came, I held the grey bowl in my hand out to the warden that dished out the food.

It was rice and soup.

Lebo beside me mumbled a thank you as his food was being dished.

Once my serving was done, I left the line making my way through the cafeteria. Almost every table was filled, with each small group looking like a gang.

I spotted Tiger and the men in cell twenty eight with a few other prisoners and immediately went the opposite direction.

“I found a spot!” Lebo's voice called, waving me over to a table.

I sighed, looking every which way but it seemed that Lebo would be stuck to me like glue.

I made my way towards him, inwardly sulking and his smile got bigger and bigger.

“I saved you a seat.”

“Thanks.” I settled on the seat across from him and started eating, my head trained on the food.

The cafeteria was a really loud place in the prison; chatter filled the air with a constant buzz.

Lebo and I on the other hand kept to ourselves.

“...Thank you for what you did back there.” Lebo suddenly said, my eyes lifted to meet him.

“It was really brave.”

“I didn't do anything. We both just got beat up. I don't know what you're thanking me for.”

I didn't like how much this guy was making me talk. I hated hearing the sound of my voice because of how bitter and tired it had gotten.

I sounded nothing like the Zolani I was last year, who talked through his laughter. Who couldn't stop talking. Who was filled with life and spent every waking moment to the fullest.

That Zolani was dead.

“How old are you?”

“I don't know what you're trying to do here Lebo but I'm not here to make friends. Especially with a guy like you.”

That shut him up completely.

He heard the unspoken words, you're weak so loud and I think I saw something in his eyes shatter.

Lebo didn't speak a word to me  for the rest of the day.

When the siren blew at seven o'clock it meant that it was time to retire to our cells.

As Lebo and I made our way back to cell twenty eight, even though we didn't share a word with each other it was clear that the both of us would rather jump off a cliff than go back to our cells.

My shoulders stiffened the moment I stepped into the cell, taking a look at my cellmates.

All the lights were out so it was darker, the shadows in the cell moved eerily.

The five prisoners in cell twenty eight talked amongst each other, laughing loudly and cursing in every sentence they used like it was their language.

Tiger laid on his bed, smoking and when he saw me, he smirked.

The cells were locked and Lebo and I were caged in.

Out of one cage and into a smaller one.

The wardens walked down the hallway, checking into the cells with their torches from the bars but they didn't get too close; we weren't safe.

Safety was lost with our freedom.

“Light's out!” The wardens shouted, their boots clicking loudly on the floor.

“Light's out!”

Lebo didn't stay behind me this time he walked past me, and passed our cellmates, limping.

He'd been limping the whole day.

Lebo chose the bed, furthest away from our cellmates. I made my way to that same bunk bed and climbed on top.

When I settled onto the bed, my tense bones found no comfort because it was hard, like it was made out of bricks. The grey blanket was more scratchy than warm but my exhaustion overlooked all these details.

Lebo twisted and turned under me, his bed squeaking.

It made me question  once again what on earth a rich boy like him was doing here.

This was Lebo’s first official day in prison and I think we could both agree that it was really a bad day.

“Light's out!” The warden said, the flash of the torch lit parts of our dark cell up. The warden flashed the torch right in my face, then passed by and walked away.

The warden's footsteps echoed a way, and from the distance I heard the sound of the black gates closing. The black gates locking us more into this cage.

My heavy eyes fluttered shut, my icy heart thudded. I felt my eyes burn with tears and I knew that I was ready to cry about how terrible my  birthday had been.

Birthdays were the biggest celebration in the Mandela house. No matter what was happening in our lives, birthdays were a time of joy.

My mother would bake a cake that had two different halves, one half would be banana, my favourite ; the other half would be carrot cake, Zoey's favourite.

She would lather the cake with  white frosting and decorate the cake with so much detail you would swear it was store bought. She'd write Zoey and Zolani on top of the cake, placing the candles around the cake.

I'd spend the day playing soccer with my friends, scoring winning goals with ease. Zoey would later on always have to pull me away from my group of friends so we could go home.

We'd get home and find our mother cooking up a storm, the house filled with soul food.

When it was time to cut the cake, my mother would turn off all the lights. It would be completely dark. She'd place the cake on the dining table. Zoey and I would sit across from each other, staring at each other through the little flames of the candles.

We didn't make wishes.

Wishes were a shot in the dark that never changed anyone's life; at least that's what  my father said.

We sent one single prayer to God every birthday.

Zoey's lips would curve into this smile, that was similar to mine but she made it sweeter. Her brown eyes would gleam and she'd say her prayers with her eyes wide open, her lips moving but I'd never hear a word.

I closed my eyes and sent my prayer up to God.

On my seventeenth birthday, the year 2011 as Zoey prayed with her eyes open, the candles making her brown eyes twinkle, I shut my eyes.

Please, just give me one chance with Buhle.

It was a stupid but that's all that the Zolani I was,  wanted at the time.

Girls.

And I did get Buhle, we were together for a while but no girl wants a murderer as a boyfriend. She didn't even come to me for the truth but her betrayal didn't even cause the smallest of pangs in my heart.

What we had was superficial and superficial things don't last long nor do they really get to your heart.

When my father was alive it would be even better, he'd turn our birthdays into a huge party of four. He was a man who knew how to be festive. He'd let Zoey and I get anything we want, taking us out to buy gifts. He'd take us to the hilltop and he'd talk about life with us. My father, Kevin Mandela, had so many dreams for us.

So many dreams for me and for the first time in my entire life I was glad that my father was dead. Glad because he didn't have to see his son get arrested, be in trial after trial and get fifteen years in prison when he was just seventeen.

I'm glad that my father was dead most of all because I'd never have to see the look on his face when he found out I failed at protecting Zoey.

“Get off the beds.” Dumisani’s gravelly voice cut through the silence. I felt  him standing by the bunk bed.

I looked down to see Dumisani, and although he was sneering, he also  had that humourous expression on his face, like he thought everything was funny.

“Why should we? It's light’s out , didn't you hear?”

I knew that being a smart mouth wouldn't help my case but I was sick and tired of the treatment and it had only been a day.

“Oh, hero still has a voice.” One of the other guys teased me.

I scoffed, turning my back to them and snuggled into the brick bed.

Then, I felt  cold steel on my throat,  my breath hitched. “ Get off the bed, hero” Dumisani threatened.

The knife was  sharp, one wrong move would leave a bloody mess on my bed. I slowly got off the bed and when my feet landed on the ground I spotted Lebo already off the bed.

Tiger stood at the center, watching me closely. “ You'll be sleeping under the beds.”

“What?! You can't do that.”

“It's my cell.”

“The beds are more than enough for all of us.” I protested, furious.

“I don't care,” Tiger shrugged, “ You'll be sleeping under the beds. Do you have a problem with that hero?”

I had a huge problem with that. I was about to put up a fight but Dumisani pressed his sharp knife further into my throat, he made me look directly into Tiger's eyes.

“I don't have a problem with that.” I voiced  out  the words tasting bitter.

“Good.” Tiger smiled, “ You'll earn your way into sleeping on the bed but until then, the ground's your new bed.”

Tiger pulled Lebo down and shoved him underneath the bed, it was so dark I could barely see a thing. Next thing I was roughly handled and brought to my knees so they could shove me underneath the bed.

It was dark, the air stale and I could barely see a thing. All I could hear was the sound of their loud cackling.

“Good night Lebo. Good night, Hero.”

And they climbed onto their beds, sighing in contentment and voicing out how nice the blankets were.

The cold chilled my skin, my bones ached at the position I was in under the bed. The floor was freezing cold.I heard the faint sound of teeth chattering.

I looked beside me and when I squinted my eyes I saw Lebo, his scrawny body was shivering. No, he was crying.

His body shook with the quiet sobs and it tore at my heart. Lebo was too soft for this life.

My body was exhausted but sleep did not come because of the cold floor and the uncomfortable position. I couldn't even lift my head because then I'd hit my head on the bed frame.

I felt suffocated; dead inside.

Lebo cried almost all night; his tears were never ending and his body shook in spasms of pain.

When he stopped crying, a silence settled in cell twenty eight. I couldn't bear it either, I shuffled a little closer to the bed he was under.

“ Lebo.” I called out in a whisper.

“Lebo.”

What on earth was  I doing, I thought to myself.

I was the one who kept pushing him away all day; the one who said I wasn't here to make friends.

“I don't feel like talking right now, or ever.” Lebo whispered  back, broken.

I couldn't see his face but I knew he was hurt.

He was hurt in more ways than one and unfortunately I was one of the causes.

“I deserve that.” I whispered back, not sure what my next words would be.

“My name is Zolani Mandela.”

I answered one of the first questions he asked me earlier this morning.
The silence echoed back to me.

“I’m eighteen years old. Today is…actually my…birthday.” My chest constricted.

I heard Lebo gasp.

“ Happy birthday Zolani,” he whispered back.

I chuckled pretending not to be affected by it at all but my eyes burned with tears. No one had wished me  the whole day.

“There's nothing happy about this birthday, Lebo.”

Lebo sighed.

“You're right, but at least you're alive.”

I scoffed, the irritation sizzling in my heart. “ Is that a blessing or a curse?”

Lebo didn't answer.

“Thank you for today.” Lebo whispered.

I decided to just take his gratitude. “You're welcome.”

“No one's ever stood up for me.”

“You should learn to stand up for yourself.”

“I will,” he said, determined.

“Good.”

But until then Lebo was still very much weak. I still wouldn't take him as my friend but he was some sort of companion.

There was a silent solidarity built between the two of us as we slept underneath the beds on the cold cement floor.

Lebo was weak and his weakness felt like a burden on my shoulders.

A burden that I would have to carry because my father raised me to be the man that I was today. My father raised me to protect, no matter the cost.