Make him pay.
Scraping my fingers through my hair, I want to fist the locks at the nape of my neck like I always used to.
But there’s nothing to hold onto.
I thump my fists on the bed with a frustrated scream.
No one’s awake. No one can hear me. I can be myself for a few minutes. Slipping out of bed, I pull my suitcase free and open it, unzipping the small pouch in the lid. With trembling fingers I pull out the photo I wasn’t allowed to bring. I slipped it in when Rybeck wasn’t looking. I thought I might need the motivation. Taking the flashlight from beside my bed, I flick it on and study the image with a watery smile. Robbie’s making a face while I laugh at the camera. We’d been messing around on Lincoln Road in South Beach, shopping and eating ice cream sundaes. A guy was walking around with his Polaroid camera, selling photos for a dollar. We bought two—one for me, one for Robbie. He stood behind me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, his cheek pressed against my hair.
I run my finger over my luscious brown locks, tracing my painted lips before touching Robbie’s smile. We both look so happy and free, so blissfully unaware of what awaited us in the isolated parking lot. We should have found a park on the beachfront. But it’d been such a nice night we decided to leave Robbie’s car in the secret spot where we agreed to meet and walk from there.
I don’t know why I’d wanted to keep Robbie a secret, but I had. No one knew about the boy I’d bumped into one Sunday afternoon. Deep down, had I known the devil hated him? Is that why I’d snuck around, not telling my parents or my friends?
But how could I?
I don’t even know why the devil pulled the trigger!
Slipping the photo back into hiding, I click off my flashlight and slump against the side of my bed. A shake twitches my spine and my teeth begin to chatter. I can’t get warm in this damn place. I wrap my arms around my knees. This building is an icebox. Everything is so cold and unwelcoming.
Tears burn. My nose hurts. Tired muscles ache. The trauma of what I saw is a heavy burden. The stress of what I’m trying to do is wearing me down.
They may have made me look like a boy, but I don’t feel like one.
I’m a joke. A pathetic, shivering excuse of a boy.
The bandage that’s covering my chest feels like a python trying to cut off my air supply. I’m compelled to rip it off, but I’m supposed to stay strapped all the time.
“What if there’s an emergency and you have to jump up quickly?” McNeal warned. “You can’t give yourself away.”
“There’s hardly anything there anyway! And it’s uncomfortable.”
“There’s enough to notice.” Rybeck winked. “It’s only temporary.”
“Eton is the best place for you,” McNeal said, so sure of herself. “No one will think to look for you there.”
I couldn’t argue with them. I was running out of fight.
But now all I feel like is a shower. I want to wash the dream from my mind, warm my trembling core, and crawl back into bed clean and relaxed.
Jumping up, I grab the towel off the back of my door and clutch it to my chest. I creep down the hallway, hoping to sneak by the jail cells undetected.
I listen out for clomping feet on patrol but all is quiet.
Entering the bathroom closest to my room, I release my breath, my shoulders sagging as I walk to the empty shower stalls.
There are no curtains to hide me, so I keep the lights off. I’ll have to be quick. It may be the early hours of the morning, but people still stir in the night.
Pulling off my pajama top, I unravel that bandage around my chest. My body expands with relief, a moment’s reprieve from having to hide my gender. The cool bathroom air touches my bare skin. Goosebumps ripple over my torso.
I reach for the shower but am stopped by the creaking of a door.
Holding in my gasp, I duck into the shadows, pressing my back into the corner of the stall. My heart is racing, my eyes darting every direction as I listen to the shuffling of feet.
A yawn.
A fart.
A steady stream of pee.
Closing my eyes, I swallow and wait it out.
He’s like a horse, whoever he is. It feels like an eternity before the door creaks and I’m once again alone.
I lose the urge to shower.
McNeal and Rybeck told me to wake an hour before everyone so I can clean up in private, but I’m now thinking a sponge bath in my room is a safer option. I have basically no hair to wash so what’s the big deal, right?
I feel disgusting.
I don’t know if I can do this…any of it!
I fight the sting of tears as I carefully wrap my chest back up, flattening my breasts so I’ll look like a boy.
It’s been just over twenty-four hours and I already need to quit. It’s more than a want. I seriously don’t know how I’ll manage another day with Ivan the Terrible and his concrete fist, Trey the Intruder and his sexy-ass smile. I want out! I need my old life back!
I go still, my chest heaving with a question I don’t want to ask.