In the foggy room, alert and ready for anything, Joe sat in the tub, watching Williams’s every move. They never let Williams supervise the baths anymore―not since that incident last year. Williams had nearly drowned a new arrival, and later that night, the young man had been found hanging by the neck in his cell. He was twenty years old. Some said he hadn’t been able to take the shame of what Williams had done to him, in the night.
But Williams was here this evening, standing guard by the door. His eyes were on Dubois.
Always on Dubois.
Through the steam, Joe noticed Dubois was quickly washing his face and hair, obviously aware of Williams’s attention on him. Joe sat in the tub right next to his, within arm’s reach, but couldn’t speak to Dubois, because he knew that one word from him wo
