“You did that to me, Quinn.”
I breathe so fast I’m close to hyperventilating. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes.
I’m sorry!
My tears fall into the lake, spreading tiny ripples. Reed looks at me with such grief, I know it’s because he’s decided he has to do this. As mad at me as he is, he doesn’t want to hurt me — but he has to. There’s no other way. He’s accepted it, and there’s nothing I can do to change his mind. That’s why he gagged me, so I couldn’t beg him to spare me — so I couldn’t change his mind and ruin his life worse than I already have. Or maybe because he knew it would kill him to hear me plead, and it was just too much.
The saddest part of all, though, is reserved for myself. Here I am at the end, crying as uncontrollably as a child. After everything I’ve gone through at Walker, I had hoped if I met my end here, I’d meet it with more bravery.
I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway.
Going still, I take a final breath, and shut my eyes, waiting for Reed to let me go.
He doesn’t though: for a moment I feel at peace, immersed in the chill air, listening to the wind rustle.
“They didn’t ask me to kill you,” he says, pulling me back into the boat. “Not today. But if Prescott has a change of heart, and decides he wants you dead, that’s what will probably happen. I won’t do it, and I’ll probably die trying to keep you alive. So please, don’t give them another reason to want you dead.”
Coming back from the brink of death gives me no relief. Just more anger and misery. I cry softly as Reed rows us back to shore.
Chapter 23
Reed takes me back to my cell, rather than the workshop. He doesn’t remove my bindings, and I don’t really care. All I want to do is close my eyes and not exist for a while.
But since I’m not working, I get to wondering if the other girls think he killed me. Do they even ask? And if they think I’m dead, do they care?
Eventually the workday ends and the women return to the cell block. I swear I hear a few groans as they discover I’m still alive.
I don’t sleep that night — there’s too much for me to process, too many fears that won’t give me peace. Was my experience at the lake today my punishment for killing Corbin, or just a warning for what’s to come? Either way, I can’t get the ice in my chest to thaw.
Yet, I am comforted by one thing Reed said:I’ll probably die trying to keep you alive.
Fuck Amber, I believe him. His anguish seemed pretty real to me — I don’t think he’s faking it. And if he’s playing me, then I’m probably screwed anyway. I can’t let that possibility dictate my actions. I have to believe he wants what’s best for me. What’s more likely? That I’ll get us both killed, or that he’s playing an elaborate game, even after the death of his colleague? Would Edwin and Hunter be cool with Reed if they knew he considered their lives expendable in the effort to break me? I doubt that. They’d probably stab him in the back as soon as they got the chance.
Yet, the idea of heeding Reed’s warning infuriates me. Prescott, Byron and Jefferson — Edwin and Hunter — I’d kill all of them given the chance. After what they’ve done to me and the other women, they deserve it. If I have an opportunity, don’t I have to take it? Yes, the consequences would be severe, but aren’t they worth it?
But what if Reed dies?
I don’t want to think about it, though he’s right — what I do could get us both killed. Am I prepared to accept that? If I somehow survive but he doesn’t, can I live with that guilt for the rest of my life? What if the best option is to wait for an opportunity for both of us to escape? Reed knows this place — if I trust him, maybe I should trust he’ll find us a way out.
—
I sleepwalk through the morning routine, too tired to think much. That’s probably a good thing, considering the way Byron smiles at me as we shower. Whatever it means, I know I’m not going to like it.
I’m torn from my stupor by Byron and Reed after breakfast. Instead of leading us to the workshop, they take us to the auditorium.
“Harris, over here,” Byron barks, pointing to the center-most, front-row seat. I trundle over and keep my face expressionless as he and Hunter strap me in.
They seat Jacqueline and Amber on either side of me. Both women look miserable, which surprises me: I assumed we were brought here so I could be punished, which ought to put Jacqueline in a good mood at least.
“What’s going on?” I ask, whispering.
“An assembly usually means one thing,” Amber replies. “A new girl.”
Jacqueline shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s it. Not this time. Look at the stage: there’s nothing.”
My blood boils and despite what I felt last night, I’d love to break out of this seat and slug Byron right in the chin. The idea of more girls being brought here hasn’t occurred to me, which enrages me at the same time eliciting a spike of guilt. Was I wrong to assume I would be the center of attention here for as long as I was around, or is that just being egotistical? Of course, they’ll have to bring in more women, possibly while I’m still here. I hope Jacqueline’s right, and that’s not what’s going on today.
“How often do they get new girls?” I ask.