I suppose that’s something I can worry aboutafterescaping. Killing in the name of saving myself and all the other women here — Reed has to understand that’s okay. And if he doesn’t? If the way he feels about me changes because of what I have to do to survive? I hate to consider it, but I have to place the lives of the women here above my feelings — if I can. I hope I never have to decide between the two.
I’m still pretty lost in thought when the door to the dungeon opens, catching me by surprise. Reed didn’t leave very long ago, and I didn’t expect him to come back so soon — so it makes a lot more sense when a mop bucket slides into the room, followed by Amber.
My hopes soar for a second, thinking the breakout has begun, and Amber’s here to get me out — but then I see she’s still cuffed. In her state, the only thing she’s escaping is today’s sewing.
“Holy shit,” she mutters, taking in the massive pool of blood spread out across the hardwood floor.
I grin. “Cleanup on aisle five.”
Amber looks up at me aghast. “Are you okay?”
Oh right.
I’d forgotten I’ve got a lot of Corbin’s blood on me.
“It’s not mine,” I say, my voice scratchy from thirst. “I guess you’re here to clean?”
She nods, dropping a mop into the thick of it and starts wiping. Moving the handle with her hands bound close to her waist makes the task more challenging, but she works hard.
“Did anyone tell you what happened?”
Amber shakes her head, not looking up. I’m not surprised. She must be wondering. Should I tell her? What would Reed think of that? The truth is going to get out sooner or later, isn’t it? Could Byron decide to cover it up? Has he even thought of that? Given a chance, he might not want the other inmates to know. If the women fear the guards less, they won’t have as much power. As Amber can attest, they bleed the same as anyone.
Then again, Byron would probably figure he can’t shut me up forever. I doubt he’d offer me some kind of incentive to keep the secret, and he must know threats don’t scare me. And if I tell Amber now, she could tell others. Maybe, for once, they’ll be glad. They may get punished for my actions, again, but Corbin will be dead. It won’t be for nothing.
“Corbin attacked me,” I say. “So I killed him.”
Amber keeps mopping. She doesn’t turn to look at me, but the corners of her lips rise to make a faint smile. I suppose it best she keeps working — Byron could be watching.
“What do you think of that?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“Really?” I know she’s not the most talkative person, but come on. “Are you glad he’s dead?”
“Yes.”
Good to know. “Did you hate him?”
Now Amber finally stops and turns to me. “No more than the rest. Why?”
“I want to know what you and all the other women will think. What you’ll do.”
She lifts the mop carefully to dunk it in the soapy basin without sloshing the bucket. “I don’t know.”
“Will they be mad at me?”
“They’re always mad at you. But they’ll be glad Corbin’s dead. He deserved it. They all do.”
My eyes narrow. I should probably let what she said lie, but I can’t. “What about Reed? If not for him…”
Amber lets the mop go and walks toward me. She moves with slow, icy menace — like a predator closing in on trapped prey. “Theyalldo,” she repeats. “We know you have a thing for him, but he’s a monster. He’s worse than any of them.”
“That’s not true,” I growl.
“He’s playing you, Quinn. It’s how he breaks us.”
“I don’t believe you. The things he’s done for me-”