I can’t let that happen — not to Quinn, or Prescott.
Though I doubt he’ll really want her dead, what if he insists on a punishment that goes too far? If Prescott wants me to whip her raw, to degrade her in front of the entire prison, to leave her in solitary confinement for days, I can do any and all of that. But what if he wants me and all the other guards to gang up on Quinn and violate her? What if he wants us to beat her senseless?
I need to hurt Quinn now, to put her through enough of an ordeal that Prescott will be satisfied when he hears about it. And if I’m going to help Quinn after today and into the future, I can’t afford to have Prescott doubt my commitment to him and his family.
By the time we’re getting close, Quinn mostly stops resisting.
“Where are we going?”
“The locker.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
Our destination is at the end of the basement corridor, a re-purposed supply closet that’s always reminded me of a physician’s examination room. Claustrophobic, brightly lit and frigid, with a stale, musty scent that somehow never airs out, the locker’s said to be the most feared room in the whole complex. Residents who’ve been here turn very compliant when threatened with another visit.
“What is that thing?” Quinn asks as I lower her to the icy floor. She shivers as she stares at the giant black box in the center of the room.
“A safe, technically,” I reply. At six feet tall, two feet wide and two deep, it’s no doubt the biggest she’s ever seen. “It’s been modified,” I add, indicating four small slats at eye level, as well as a series of heavy hooks fitted into thick, steel rings welded onto the top of the box.
Her eyes widen in comprehension, and then her whole body starts quaking. I haven’t seen her look this scared and vulnerable since the day we met. Under any other circumstances, I’d be excited by her reaction — eager to see how she responds to just the threat of what’s coming. Most of the girls beg for forgiveness, or for some other form of punishment. They don’t even know yet the full extent of what’s about to happen, and neither does Quinn.
However, whatever distress she’s feeling, it ends quickly. Her face hardens and she nods. “There’s no way out of this, is there?”
“No,” I say, dragging her to the side of the room, where there’s a cabinet full of toys, restraints and other necessities for a stay in the locker. “You crossed a line. Even if Jefferson hadn’t demanded I bring you here, it’s still what I would have done. You’re going to have a long, long time to think about your actions… and the consequences.”
She flinches at that last part.
“He was going to rape me,” she says as I take a series of thick, black belts out of the cabinet.
“I know.” I use the shortest belt to bind her wrists behind her back.
“Just like Lance.”
“Yeah.” The next belt goes around her arms, locking them together so stringently they nearly touch.
“You believe me?” she asks, staying still as I tighten a strap around her arms and chest.
With another handful of short belts I restrain her ankles, knees and thighs, forcing her to be conscious of her balance.
“Reed, do you believe me?”
Goddammit.
“Yes, I believe you.”
She nods, then looks down at her constricted legs as I work another buckle.
“What else was I supposed to do?” she asks. “Let it happen?”
“No. You were right to defend yourself, but…”
“But what?”
I grip her shoulders and look her in the eye. “You already had one powerful enemy in Prescott. Now Jefferson’s going to want some payback too. I can’t protect you from them forever.”
“I know,” she mutters. “You have to get me out of here.”