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Shit. Friends don't get hard at another friend's touch.
"Holt. Let go of me!" Her urgent tone snapped me out of my stupor, and I snatched my arm from her.
"Are you alright?"
We both asked the same question at the same time. I grinned as I flicked a chunk of carrot from her shoulder. She was staring at me in alarm.
"Holt, your hand!"
As if her comment flicked a switch, I became increasingly aware of a stinging sensation. I glanced down to see an angry red patch on the back of my hand, still wet from the soup that had spilled on us. The other traitorous hand had been so consumed in groping Maddy's breast, it hadn't even noticed its mate had been doused in hundred plus degree liquid.
"Someone please get me a cold cloth or some ice." Maddy hailed a couple of employees with a wave of her hand. "Come. Sit." The burning increased in intensity as she guided me to a booth that had cleared out during the chaos. The rest of the customers returned to their seats or left as the chaos settled. A woman whose nametag indicated she was Sheila the manager handed Maddy a clean cloth and a cup of ice water, along with a first aid kit. "I am so sorry for the accident.” She dug through the kit and pulled out a can. "Here, try this. We spray this on if anyone happens to get burned."
"It happens that often?" I asked wryly as Maddy covered the red mark with the cloth that she saturated in cold water. I blew out a sigh of relief. Maddy raised worried eyes to me.
"Oh, no, we've never had an incident involving the customers before," the manager hastily corrected me. "Just an occasional one in the kitchen. I feel terrible."
"It was an accident," I waved her off. "I'll be fine." I looked at Maddy, who was reading the instructions on the can of burn relief. "What about you? Are you hurt anywhere?"
She glanced up. "It startled me for sure, but your arm took the brunt of it. I just got a few drips and splashes." She looked ruefully down at her clothes. "I can't go back to work smelling and looking like a soup kitchen, though."
Neither could I. At least, my suit jacket had been spared since I'd left it in the office. I pulled out my cell phone and made a couple of calls while Maddy and Sheila fussed over my hand until Maddy finally shooed her away.
"We're both done for the afternoon," I declared. "Let's head back to my truck. I'll take you home."
Fifteen minutes later, we were in my truck, loaded down with extra food and gift cards courtesy of Sheila, and on the way home. I was still bothered by her reaction to the crowd of people at the diner. Her fear was not normal. Finally, I just decided to ask her.
“Maddy, what was with the panic back there? It’s not the first time I’ve noticed it. I didn’t mean to put you in a situation that made things hard for you.”
She raised her eyebrows as if surprised. I thought for sure she was going to shut me down, but to my surprise, she answered.
“It wasn’t anything you did, Holt. Sometimes if crowds of people get too close to me or grab me when I’m not expecting it, I freak out. I…I had some bad experiences in prison, and it’s just kind of become an instinct. I’m trying to get over it, but sometimes it still catches me off guard. Please don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known.”
I felt like shit. True, I didn’t know about her panic attacks, but it was a reminder of how little I did know about her. I’d asked her twice about her life story with no real answers, but the outline I was putting together sounded like it was more of a tragedy than anything.
“What happened to you?” I growled. To my surprise, she sighed and answered me.
“Well, obviously it was no picnic being in prison, and in the end I suppose it could have been worse, but in the beginning I was scared. There were a few times things got rough.” She sighed and looked warily into my eyes. “I’m sure you know there are different levels of placement according to your crime, so I wasn’t in with really hardcore criminals. But there were a few women who were just plain mean, and they liked to ‘try out’ the new girls.”
My blood turned to ice. “What do you mean by ‘try out’?”
“Anything from trying to intimidate you to use your script to buy something they want from the canteen to outright stealing something like hygiene products. Sometimes they’d gang up on a girl and try to feel her up or get her to engage in sex play. They could get a little forceful about it. If you were lucky, they’d eventually leave you alone or move on to more willing girls or new ones.”
I was horrified at the idea she’d been abused in any capacity. “Didn’t the guards stop it?” I asked incredulously.
She laughed, not the happy kind, but cold and sharp. “Oh, come on, Holt, you’ve heard the stories. Sometimes the guards were the worst offenders.”
“Maddy, were you…were you ever…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
She filled it in for me. “Raped?” It sounded even worse spoken out loud than it did in my mind, but I nodded.
I breathed again when she shook her head.
“No, but I was ganged up on a few times, sucker punched in the stomach and touched inappropriately. I went in thinking if I treated everyone with respect, they’d reciprocate. I learned right quick it doesn’t work that way. It was hard for a quiet girl like me, but you learn to be tough or get eaten alive.
“It’s a paradox in some ways. The women in your cluster become like your family. You live with them and see them every day, all day. You learn about their families, their habits, their likes and interests as well as what they hate, their moods. Some you like better than others. Some you genuinely care about what happens to them. At the same time, you don’t feel anyone is truly your friend because every single one of them is about survival. Some are just more willing to do things than others.
“I
