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“We actually don’t have time to chat,” Marilynn says grumpily, stepping forward and reaching a hand to loosen Gerta’s grip on my arm. “That hurts him. But you can hold his hand.”
Gerta blinks her surprise, then blushes while she grabs my left hand.
I ogle at Marilynn in wide-eyed disbelief. She generally looks too pissy to be this observant. Yet she knew Gerta was hurting my burns.
“Skylenna was hurt badly in The Hunt. Where can we find supplies?” I ask.
“Where is she?” Helga Bee stops her exercising to look around.
“Not here. We had to keep her in our cages.” And it killed me to leave them. But she needs help.
“You’re supposed to bring your wounded here, ya know. That’s probably gonna cost you tonight, dumb pup!”
“What do you mean?”
Helga Bee uses her skimpy uniform to wipe the sweat dripping down her splotchy brow. Then attempts to dab the rest of her skin dry.
“It’s Fun House Night!” She wafts her hands around the giant room. “I told you all about Fun House Night!”
Fuck us right up the ass.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yep. ’Tis a real doozy! We’re all going to be entertaining those dick-jerking, bloodthirsty, mommy-killin’ sissies!”
“But Skylenna should be exempt, right? She was nearly beaten to death last night,” Marilynn grits.
“Nope. Even those who have lost a limb still have to join the festivities.”
I kick the side of the stage. “Fuck this. Can you help us get supplies then?”
She fake coughs, pointing her thumb behind the stage. “Take what you need, grumpy puppy. The next wave of prisoners will flood through those doors in about a minute. You can slip back to the cages that way.”
~
Ruth
I hate to say it, but I feel remarkably safer with Warrose guiding us to the showers.
“There are buckets in the corner. I’ll grab that if you can grab a few towels,” Warrose whispers, his facial hair grazing the side of my ear. I hide my shudder by scratching my nose with the back of my hand.
We strip off our clothes without looking at each other and rush into the blazing cold water. He walks us into a corner, where no one can watch me scrub down. I don’t object because, honestly, I’m not in the mood to see another little man beating his thing off to me in front of everyone. I just want to help Skylenna.
“You about done?” he asks with his back to me.
“Yes.” I finish rinsing out the suds from my hair.
We quickly disperse to dry off and get what we came for. After slipping on another uniform, I grab an armful of towels. Warrose signals me over, but something down the hall, toward the prison commissary, grabs my attention.
Kaspias leans against a wall, hands casually hooked in his pant pockets, looking out at the inmates eating.
Maybe I am delusional. Maybe Dessin is right. I’m naïve and ignorant.
I offer Warrose an apologetic look before dashing down the hall, arms holding the stack of towels, chin up, and jaw set.
Kaspias meets my eyes as I race down the hall, raising an eyebrow.
“Hi,” I pant, clutching the towels to my chest like they might protect me.
