He walks up next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is awful, Ravenna, I’m so sorry. If you want to go in the other room, I’ll clean it up and get everything out of here, so you don’t have to be in this room any longer.”
I try not to fidget uncomfortably with the heavy weight of his arm over my shoulder, and I press my lips together tightly before I’m tempted to admit everything to him. I let him continue to assume I’ve been so distraught that I couldn’t bring myself to wash away the evidence of what my mother did. It’s probably best I don’t tell him that I never washed the window and wall because lying here in bed at night with my bright overhead light on, it calms me to stare at the mess my mother left behind. It helps me fall asleep staring at the dark red splatter, trying to find hidden shapes in the dried splotches.
The only reason I’m moving out of this bedroom is because it represents everything I’m not. It’s a daily reminder of the girl my parents tried to fool me into being. And I’m getting tired of Nolan begging me to move out several times a day.
I shrug out from under his arm and move over to my dresser. “I’m fine, Nolan, really. Let’s just get this done so we can move on to more important things.”
I open a drawer and start pulling everything out of it while Nolan goes to the bed, sliding the top mattress off and tipping it to the side before pushing it across the floor to the door.
“So what’s the plan? I’ve been thinking about everything you told me and I can’t make sense of any of it,” he tells me as he pushes the mattress out of the doorway and into the living room.
I dump the pile of clothes in my arms onto the floor and follow him out so I can point out which room I’m moving to. I walk along the tipped mattress he holds up and stop short in front of the spare room.
“Shit. I forgot the door is locked,” I complain.
Nolan leans the mattress against the back of the couch and comes up next to me. He squats down and studies the doorknob for a few seconds. The doors and matching hardware up in our living quarters are still the originals from when the prison was first built. The knob is made of thick glass, framed with an oblong brass filigree backplate that requires a skeleton key to open—a skeleton key that is on a key ring in my father’s locked office.
“What kind of clothing hangers do you have in your closet?” Nolan asks, tilting his head to the side as he studies the lock hole.
“Just regular wire ones I guess.”
“Can you grab me one please?” he asks. “I think I might be able to pick this thing.”
Jogging back to the room, I grab a hanger from the pole in my closet and hurry back to Nolan. Taking the hanger from me, I watch as he unbends the curved top of the hanger until it’s pointing straight out. He sticks the end into the keyhole, and after a few minutes of jiggling it around inside, as well as a couple of muttered curses under his breath, I hear a loud click. Nolan stands, tossing the hanger to the side, and turns the handle, pushing the door open.
I smile up at him as I walk by. “A gentleman and a handyman. Very nice.”
He returns my smile, and I quickly look away before I start to like it too much.
My feet suddenly come to a stop in the middle of the room when I see a dark blue hard-side leather suitcase with white trim, lying on its side in the middle of the bed. This time, I don’t even need to concentrate to pull the memory into focus. It slides right into place in my mind like it’s always been there and I move to the bed silently, running my hand over the side of the familiar piece of luggage.
“This will be your room. Dinner is in an hour, so you can hang up your things in the closet while you wait. You will be on time and you will respect the rules while you’re under this roof. You have one chance to prove yourself. Screw it up, and you will regret it.”
Tossing my luggage onto the neatly made bed, I wisely keep my mouth shut as he turns and leaves the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
“Thanks for the lovely welcome, Ike. We’ll see who’s the first to have regrets,” I mutter under my breath before flopping on top of the bed.
I bounce a few times on the mattress while I look around the room. It’s different from what I remember but that’s no surprise. Of course they’d erase every trace of their mistake as soon as it was out of sight.
Shoving my suitcase out of the way, I lie on my back with my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling, having no intention of unpacking my things. They’ll find out soon enough that I’m not going to follow their rules.
Closing my eyes, I go over the plan once more in my head. I can’t make any mistakes because it has to be perfect.
“Perfect, perfect, perfect,” I whisper softly.
I smile to myself when I finish chanting their favorite word.
“Enjoy your little perfection while you can, because I’m going get rid of it, once and for all.”