Page 40 of On Your Life

“Yeah, that’d be great. What’s the job?” I ask.

Like I really care. At this point, anything to occupy my time would be considered a win.

“Cleaning the admin offices. Usually this job is hard to come by but there was an emergency. Suzie was doing it, but she’s back in the hospital and I don’t think she’ll be out for a while. It’s a nice gig if you are okay with working after hours.”

I only met Suzie once. She hung out with Barbara and a few of the other long timers. She didn’t say much to me but that’s honestly more than I could ask for.

Barbara places her hands in her pockets, waiting for my answer. What other choice do I have? Who knows when the next job will come available and this one sounds pretty easy.

“Sure, I’d love to.” The answer comes out so quickly I almost laugh. “It’s hard for me to sleep until later anyways. It’s perfect.”

Beyond perfect. It gets me away from the pod for a while. Away from the constant noise and eyes watching everything I do. I might have time to actually breathe.

“Great, I'll let them know.”

She offers Maxie and I both a quick nod before walking off. I watch her disappear before turning to Maxie.

“Why didn’t you do it?” I ask.

“I’m not cleaning those prick’s offices so they can be more comfortable.” She shrugs. “Besides, I already have a job.”

I blink.

“I didn’t know you had a job. I haven’t seen you go anywhere.”

“I’m sure you haven’t silly. I help tend to the gardens so I wake up early,” she giggles. “Right now all of the seeds are indoors, but come summer, we have to water everything early in the morning or it kills the plants.”

That explains why I have killed every plant I have ever owned. Apparently, I’ve been burning them alive.

Noted. On the off chance that I ever get out of this place, I’ll at least be able to move far, far away and maybe give my plant children a chance at life.

Thinking about the future is depressing right now. But I’m trying to hold out hope. At this point, it’s all I have.

Chapter 22

Fox

Idon’t know why I keep working nights at this point. The older I get the more it slowly chips away at me.

My alarm is still screaming on the other side of the bed, but I can’t will my muscles to move. Every nerve in my body is begging for another few hours of sleep. The sound is fucking obnoxious though.

The red numbers on the screen read 1500. Four more hours until my shift starts. Four more hours until I get to see my little killer’s face. I wonder how her stay in solitary was.

Most people don’t stay for longer than a day for their first offense. I wrote on the paperwork that she refused to show up for count, and that was explanation enough to earn her stay in the cinder block room.

If it were any other inmate, I would think twice about throwing them down there. The horror stories of what solitary does to a person’s mind have always stuck with me. For her, though? I hope her mind flays itself apart. It’s the least she deserves.

I finally drag myself out of bed, every joint protesting the movement. The light on the laptop cord glows green as I walk past it, practically begging me to sit down.

One hit of my energy drink is enough to push past the sleep that threatens to take over. I drop into the chair and open Conner’s laptop.

Password ________

The cursor blinks on the screen. Fuck what would his password be? His birthday?

My fingers move across the keys, trying every random thing I can think of. His mom’s name, his old cat’s name, hell I even tried my dog, Shadow, because apparently grief has made me desperate enough to believe he would’ve used something so out of the ordinary.

*INVALID CREDENTIALS*