“Good,” she says, letting me go.
I give her a second, then add, “Thank you for telling me. And I would have happily told you about Lance any time. I understand you wanted it to be in private, but what you did with Corbin… you didn’t have to do that.”
“Quinn, when you’ve been here as long as I have, shit like that starts to feel normal. We can get used to a lot, if we have to.” She turns around and pulls up her shirt, showing me her back — her scars and tattoos.
“They didn’t do that to you here,” I say, not really asking. None of the other prisoners look like her.
“No, it was before,” she replies. “Quinn, I know what you’re doing. You’ve got a lot of questions. Keep them to yourself, okay? For your own good. There’s a lot of fucked up shit going on here, and you’ve got enough problems.”
There’s a knock on the closet door.
“If we work together-”
I don’t get to finish my sentence. Jacqueline’s fist flies out, punching my stomach hard enough that I can’t breathe for a moment. I collapse on the floor, gasping and twitching like a caught fish.
Corbin opens the closet door and steps in. He’s not alone — Edwin’s in tow. For the first time, I’m happy to see them.
“Break’s over.”
“I need another minute,” the bitch says. “I’m just starting.”
The guards share a glance, and Corbin shrugs. “Fine, but we’re staying.”
“Fine.” The bitch turns back to me and doesn’t hesitate to kick me in my side.
I cough hard, my mind racing. Quakes and pain wrack my body. I thought I could take some punishment, but this isn’t the same as a whipping. At least when Reed scalds my backside, I usually understand why.
Edwin laughs. “You should see the look on your fucking face, Quinn. Fucking… priceless.”
I shut my mouth, realizing I’d had opened it wide in shock. “Go fuck yourself,” I wheeze.
“Hit her, bitch,” says Corbin. “She doesn’t talk to us like that.”
Jacqueline crouches down and lifts me onto my knees, then backhands me across the cheek.
The guards laugh, giving each other a fist bump, but then Edwin clears his throat. “Fuck, that’s going to bruise, bitch. I told you to watch that shit. No knuckles.”
“Sorry,” Jacqueline says, then slaps me, this time with an open palm. She hits hard, and my eyes start to water. I try getting to my feet so I can try to kick back, but she pushes me to the ground. “If I get punished again because of you, I will tear your shit up so bad, Reed’s not gonna know which end to fuck.”
“Fuck you. You’re lucky I’m cuffed right now or I’d-”
She slaps me again, then pulls my hair. “Yeah, let’s take ‘em off. Then I won’t have to hold anything back.”
“Enough,” says Edwin, getting between us. “I’ll beat the both of you if we don’t make quota.”
I spit at Jacqueline’s feet, shooting a pink stream of saliva. “Next time, bitch.”
She doesn’t respond, except to hold out her hands for the guards to bind.
They march us back to the workshop, with me in the lead. I can feel Jacqueline’s stare the whole way, holding my breath so I don’t lose my composure. When they’ve locked me to my table and I get sewing I let out a few tears, but I keep my head down. Quiet murmurs join the din, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.
This place is a nest of lies, secrets and vengeance. There’s too much I don’t know about it. Can I trust anyone here? Will anybody help me? What if no one does? If something doesn’t change soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
Chapter 12
Fluorescent bulbs hum loudly, the bright rods reflected in spotless linoleum. The stench of chemical disinfectant fills the air. The corridor goes on as if for miles. Machinery beeps and clicks, the steady work of ventilators, heart monitors and feeding tubes.
I’ve never visited a hospital before. It’s fucking depressing — especially considering I’m here to see a dead man.