What Philip Did in Tulsa

“I-I’m sorry. I…”

“Nah. Too late for that now.” Harvey stood and looked down with an inquisitor’s gaze. “My lawyer had them re-test the DNA and got them to admit that they botched their investigation in a couple places. But he never did get them to say they were sorry. The day I was set free, not one person in that courtroom believed it was because I was innocent. I wasn’t a criminal when I went into prison, but I did the time of a criminal. Now that I’m out, I still feel like I’m doing time. Your time. I think it’s only right I pay you back some of that.”

Philip cried and shook his head. Speech failed him. Harvey walked back to the fire pit and pulled out the poker, the end now a fiery, crackling red. He pointed it at Philip to show him the end, but Philip’s vision wavered. Abject fear assaulted his conscious mind.

“The first year in the stir, I was raped five times.” Harvey held up his left hand with all four fingers and thumb splayed out and whispered, “Five.”

He strolled around the table behind Philip. There was a clang of chains and a cinching around his waist that caused him to heave. The pressure in his intestines felt near to bursting.

“Nineteen years is a long time. I don’t have that kind of time anymore to just waste it, so we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”





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