“Sure.”
At what point do they believe what’s been branded on their skin instead of just knowing who they are inside?
My eyes focus on him ahead of me, his muscles flexed as he opens the door. Moonlight slips across my cell, and breathing finally becomes easier. Collapsing on my mat, I squint when Cole flicks on the light. I roll over, too tired to talk and too traumatized to eat. There’s no way out of this place now. I’m going to live the rest of my life in this hell.
I toss and turn on my mat and can’t stop the flood of memories from burning me up inside. I promised myself I’d never go through the pain of telling my story again. Nothing hurts more than the disbelief of people who are supposedly your friends.
“You’re a liar just looking for attention. How could you say such things?” they said to me.
Only heartless people don’t believe a child. A part of me died when my father passed away. A slow withering took place in our family, and my mother deteriorated into a shell of her former self. No protection existed for me. I prayed every night that my brother would return and take me away. He never came.
I was full of life, happy, confident. My father loved me. He gave us protection and peace. I didn’t know anything about the outside world except what they taught in school. How that’s changed since he passed. Everything changed.
My family would’ve been forced to live on the streets if I hadn’t obeyed the rules. My stepfather bought my silence with the threat of consequences. He promised retaliation and he followed through.
All these thoughts swirl through my head as I lie down, pretending to sleep. I jogged the whole way back without consciously knowing it. I braved a gunfight and witnessed the murder of a man in the street. I succumbed to the screaming of an insane person outside my own building, and still I’m alive.
Giving up on sleep, I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Cole left his door open and I see Cole, who looks deep in thought. Zeus stands on his hind legs and drinks from the kitchen faucet in Cole’s room. Please don’t tell me he turned that on himself. He drinks so fast he starts to hack. Must’ve gone down the wrong tube. Cole doesn’t even look when he does it, so I assume this is normal.
“Care if I shower?” I ask.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m gonna update the chalkboard. It only takes me a few seconds, so I’ll be back before you finish.”
I step backward, excitement blossoming on my face. “Chalk?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Any way you could bring me some?”
“I guess so, why?” He scrunches his face, scrutinizing me like I’m insane.
“To decorate my cell. It’s starting to get to me.”
“What do you mean decorate? How on earth can you decorate a—never mind. I don’t care,” he says with his hand on the door.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Do they ever come by and check the rooms?”
“No, there’s no reason to. We follow orders or people die. Pretty straightforward, don’t you think?” He walks to his room as his laugh fades.
“Hey,” I say. He sits on his bed and looks up. His facial expression softens and tired lines appear below his eyes. “I never got the chance to thank you.”
“For what?” He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor, distracting me with his broad chest. I stutter while staring.
Crap!
“Uh… for saving my life,” I say while crossing my fingers and trying to stay focused on his face. “I know I don’t show it, but I’m grateful… that I have you.” I know—the words shock me as I say them.
“Um, yeah.” His cheeks turn a shade of pale pink. “White or colored?” he asks while searching through his piles of laundry for a new shirt. His back stretches taut, his muscles hardening while sifting around and coming up with a black T-shirt. He quickly puts it on, and I exhale, his shirtless image uncomfortably burned in my memory.
“Both would be great, if that’s possible,” I say. Frustration mixed with some other emotion crosses his face, but I can’t place my finger on it.
I run back to the shower before he changes his mind and before I gawk any longer. I close the curtain, take off my bloodstained clothes, and scrub them with my hands under the icy water. The thin material tears under the strain.
Dang it. Now what?
Unsure of what to do, I call for Cole. I turn off the freezing water and stand shivering behind the curtain.
“Now what do you want?” he asks from the other side.
“Do you have a towel or another pair of scrubs by chance?”
“You’re in luck. I just got another pair.” His hand reaches past the curtain and holds out a folded pair of blue scrubs. I take them and put them on. The fabric sticks to my wet skin, but I know it could be worse.