72. What the fuck is a ....?

It was only the next day, when we sat together for breakfast again, that Henry pointed at my cellmate.

"Who is he?"

"Ask him." It seemed I had never asked him for his name.

"No. Who is he to you?" Henry clarified.

"Cellmate." I said, already tired from a night of training my ability so that I could sleep in the white room. I had often drunk through the night in the past, but there were always some lamps on. At night, and in the darkness, it was actually challenging to stay awake.

"Can I become your cellmate?" Henry asked.

"You think this is a school trip?" I asked him in annoyance.

"And my cellmate and I are already shitting buddies, don't need another one." He will be my first and my last.

"Is he your dog?" Henry asked, and I smacked him in the face with my palm.

"No? Human? Don't involve us in your shitty SM plays." I saw Henry looking relieved and thought that he was one lunatic of a motherfucker.