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“Chopping, what does it look like?” I tease, going back to the carrot I’m cutting up.
“Yeah… um… why?”
“Gotta feed the pigs,” I laugh.
“The pigs?”
“Your cellmates.”
“They get vegetables?” she asks, staring at the piles of multicolored veggies I’ve already prepared.
“Once a week, yeah. Don’t want everyone getting sick and dying too soon.”
“A vegetable a week is known to prolong life,” she deadpans.
“Who said you needed to go to school to learn,” I tease. Although the joke falls flat.
“Can I?” she asks, changing the subject and nodding toward all the food I’ve prepared.
“Eat your heart out, little dove.”
She rushes over and grabs two carrot sticks, stuffing them into her mouth and biting them off almost excitedly.
Guilt floods my veins. I haven’t looked after her as well as I should.
Yes, I brought her McDonald’s and stole some of Reid’s cookies but that’s not exactly good enough. I need to do better.
She might be stuck down here for a while yet, but I can at least try and make her stay bearable.
“Come here,” I say, abandoning my knife and carrot in favor of wrapping my hands around her waist and lifting her onto the counter beside me.
I work in silence, while she munches her way through everything I’ve laid out, and after dividing it all up for our inmates, I lay it all on trays with fresh bottles of water and some bread.
“I’m going to deliver these. You okay here?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles as she chews on a green pepper.
One by one, I deliver the trays and check in on our guests. All are fucking miserable, exactly as they should be.
None of them are like Alana. They all deserve their place here. And they’re ugly motherfuckers.
“You good?” I ask when I return to find her exactly where I left her, still chowing down.
I don’t think I was the only one who knew that she could have run the second I turned my back. But for some reason, I was confident she wouldn’t.
“Yeah. Could do with some more of those cookies though. They were so good.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I should warn you though if I’ve got to try and make them then I’ll probably burn the house down.”
“Your skills stop at chopping, huh?” she teases.
“Something like that. What about you, can you cook?”
“I’m the perfect housewife.”
“Yeah,” I muse, letting my eyes drop down her body. “I bet you are. You do know that Mav has been walking around for years with the bluest balls in the world over you, right?”
“He didn’t have to. He…”
