“Is there a problem, Harris?” he barks, noticing my stare.
“No.”Except that I want to kill you.
He pulls the collar of my shirt, forcing me to stand, then smacks my ass hard. It hurts, even through my clothes.
“Get back to work, bitch.”
Sitting back down inflames the mild pain in my ass, as well as the throbbing in my core.
“Asshole,” I mutter, though I’m not sure he’s out of earshot. If he hears me, he chooses not to react.
Too bad.
In a clear sign I’m losing my mind, I realize I wanted him to hear, and to punish me. At least then I’d have another reminder of who he is and what he thinks of me. As long as I’m a prisoner, I can’t let myself become conditioned. Defiance has to be at the forefront of my mind, always.
“Hey!” a girl whispers. “Quinn!”
I turn to look, unsure if I’m really hearing someone or if it’s in my head.
“You shouldn’t do that,” says Amber, her voice barely a squeak. “Reed is a monster.”
For the first time, one of the prisoners here has spoken to me, without being ordered. But why now, and this? She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
“Aren’t all of them?” I ask. “What makes Reed any different?”
By the time I finish my question, she’s already turned back to her work, as if nothing ever happened. She has the right idea — Corbin passes by, giving us both a look before continuing on.
I don’t know what to make of Amber, even after a month. She’s very quiet, which made me think of her as frail and maybe even cowardly. Yet, she just took a risk for my sake.
Unless Reed put her up to it. Is that his way? Mind games and subterfuge? Or am I just being paranoid?
If Amber acted of her own volition in warning me about him, there must be a good reason. Does she care about me, now that I’ve been here a while? Or am I underestimating Reed? It’s hard to imagine that’s even possible. I have to know more. I shouldn’t want to, but I do.
I try again during lunch break, tapping the leg of my table with a foot and making apsstin her direction. She doesn’t acknowledge it. My next attempt comes a couple hours later, but she still ignores me.
The next day, after breakfast, Amber moves too quickly, taking a seat at the front of the room; before I can grab the one next to her, the bitch jumps ahead of me. Amber stares at the wall, cuffing herself to the desk by touch — she pretends nothing happened. The bitch stares at me until I walk away.
I have to wait another day, but this time I stick close to Amber, not letting anyone get between us. However, I understand her reluctance to speak with me, so I wait for a good opportunity, which comes in the late afternoon. Byron steps into the workshop to speak with Reed, leaving only Corbin and Edwin on duty. They’re watching the fabric cutters, since desperate prisoners with sharp scissors require constant supervision, so that’s when I take my shot.
“Tell me about Reed.”
Amber sews, giving no sign she’s listening to me; there’s a good chance she’s not.
“Is he going to kill me?” I whisper loudly enough for her to hear.
Her head shakes just a little.
Come on, you’re going to have to do better than that.
“Is he going to force himself on me?”
Her lips tremble for a moment. “Worse.”
“What’s worse than that?”
“Just stay away from him,” she hisses. “Trust me.”
I want to. Pushing her seems like a bad idea, considering how quickly she shut down the other day — but I haven’t had a real conversation in weeks and I yearn to at least keep talking. I check up and down the aisle for anyone coming, then ask, “How did you end up here?”