It doesn’t work, and as we all watch, Laura leans over the side of her table and retches. “I’m sorry!” she howls between coughs. “I- I’m- didn’t-”
Before she can finish, Edwin lifts her out of her seat and drags her over to the cafeteria wall. Every instinct I have rages to jump him, but Hunter strides in, metal baton in hand.
Edwin ignores Laura’s pleas, spanking her backside hard. All around me, the other inmates continue eating, not wanting to be next, except for Jacqueline, who sneers at me.
“Okay!” Hunter shouts as Edwin starts to pull down Laura’s pants. “That’s enough, man.”
Edwin, arm raised to swing, freezes. “Yeah, okay,” he says, letting Laura go. “Finish up, all of you.”
Everyone, including Laura, eats faster.
—
Byron joins us in the workshop, cutting fabric for us. For today, they don’t trust us with scissors. They don’t want us getting out of our seats for any reason other than bathroom breaks, so the guards cart supplies around as needed, rather than just patrolling. How long they can keep this up without it hurting productivity, I don’t know.
Since I’d rather not pour gasoline on the fire right now, I sew like crazy; from the sound of it, so does everyone else. On a few occasions, one of the girls slips up trying to go too fast, ruining a shirt. Most of them break into tears, fearing the lash.
“Hey, bitch!” Edwin shouts at Jacqueline, sometime in the evening. “What the fuck are you doing?”
All of us turn, noticing that she’s slowed her sewing rhythm to a snail’s pace. Striding over toward her, he slips his whip from his belt.
“We hit quota half an hour ago,” she says dully, not looking up from her work.
“You been counting, smart ass?” he replies, pulling Jacqueline up by her collar.
Grimacing as she’s forced to let go of her machine, she points to the towering stacks of finished shirts. “Looks like quota to me.”
Edwin yanks down her pants, about to get whipping, when Byron grabs his wrist.
“Go check if she’s right.”
The men face off for a moment, but Edwin relents to his boss and lets Jacqueline go. Without a word, she sits down and resumes working. She flashes a smile so briefly I wouldn’t have seen it if I wasn’t watching her.
Felt good to defy them, didn’t it?
I wonder if the women here, like Amber, are so used to obeying that they’ve forgotten the thrill of standing up and fighting. How long has it been since any of them did something as inconsequential as talking back? And if she’s right, and she gets away with it…
Edwin returns and nods at Byron. “It’s close.”
The warden sighs. “You hear that? Apparently being scared shitless is a great motivator, at least for a day. Fuck this, I’m tired. Finish what you’re doing and we’ll call it an early night.”
Wow. Judging by the silence, I’m guessing that’s never happened before. The women look to Jacqueline for guidance. Are they wondering if it’s a trick? I am.
“You heard him,” she says, picking up her pace.
On a normal day, we’d be at least an hour away from stopping for the night, but within the next ten minutes, Byron and the guards have returned us to our cells. I can’t help wondering if this is all some kind of elaborate punishment, a chess grandmaster’s set up for a trap about to spring.
“Hey, bitch,” I say once it’s just us women. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” she snaps, turning over in her bed. “Didn’t want to work anymore.”
“Bullshit.” Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest. “I never saw you pull anything like that. You were testing them.”
Jacqueline shrugs. “I can’t have a little fun?”
“We should be making escape plans, not trying to have fun.”
“Really?” Amber pipes in. “Give it a rest, Quinn. It’s hopeless. You saw how careful they were today. They’re not going to take any chances with us.”