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“What in the hell is your grand plan then? Are you going to cut Ronnie? Or maybe threaten her? And Lulu too? How about Bull and Deadeye? You’re going to take them out with a plastic shiv, are you?” Her nostrils flare as the words fall from her mouth, and my heart aches for the pain and frustration I know she’s feeling.
“I can’t tell you that.” I reach for Lace and pull her into me, but her body is stiff, unwelcoming. She scowls, avoiding my gaze as I try to comfort her. “Please,” I say, squeezing the sides of her arms. “Just trust me. And stay here, will you?”
“Joey, if you get caught, it could be the end for you. You could be transferred or sent to isolation permanently. Do you understand that? I might never see you again, never mind the years that would be added to your sentence if you fail.”
“Well then.” I drop my hands from her arms and force a smile that she doesn’t return. “I better not fail then, huh?” I kiss her on the forehead and then step around her to leave the cell, looking back only once. “I love you,” I tell her, and her tear-stained eyes meet mine.
“I love you, too.”
The bathroom is empty.Quiet. It’s exactly what I need.
I shrug off my jacket and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, turning on the water to splash cool water on my face. I look tired, and I am. Dark circles shadow my lids, and my lips are cracked and dry. I look thinner than usual, too, and my collar bones protrude. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, picturing my sister’s face as I pull the shiv from its hiding place and press the edge against the bare skin of my arm.
Us as children, running together in the backyard; Julie asking me to push her on the rusted old swing set.
The blade is sharp against my skin as I push the shiv into my arm.
Julie and me, my sister squealing with joy as I push her, over and over again, the swing set creaking under her weight.
I cut again. The pain is overwhelming, and I hold my breath. The blood flows heavier now, escaping to the top and dribbling down my arm. I blow out a breath between my teeth, lightheaded, and slice again.
Our mother, stepping out onto the back porch to scream at us. She’s holding a half empty bottle of vodka, and Julie and I watch as she raises it to her lips for another long drink.
Now, my arm is covered in red, like spilled paint. I can no longer see my own skin. I grit my teeth as a sliver of pain shoots down my spine. I feel nauseous, dizzy. My fingers tremble as I drop the shiv, knees weak. Before I fall, I reach across the bathroom sink, taking a deep breath, and hit the panic button.
“Joey, can you hear me?”It’s Jaxon, I recognize his voice, but I can’t see his face. I can’t see anything, really, but darkness and pain. Everlasting pain. The floor I lie on is cold and hard, but the blood that seeps down my arms is warm, like a small blanket on a cool winter day.
“Ms. Taylor,” says another voice. It’s Warden Flynn. She says something else, but I can’t quite make it out. Someone touches the side of my face, and another takes my arm, applying pressure. The pain is intense, tiny shards of glass sliding up and down my skin.
“Ambulance is on the way!” someone shouts. I think it’s Mia, but it’s hard to tell. Somewhere in my mind, I feel relief. As the voices fade once more from my mind, I lull into another pit of black as the darkness swells around me.
Chapter Twenty
The light is bright,unnaturally bright, and I struggle to open my eyes. It hurts, and needles stab into my brain, constant and sharp and unbearably unrelenting.
I’m in a room, a bright room that smells like rubbing alcohol and bleach. Everything is white, such an ugly shade of white. It’s nothing, nothing at all.
Standing near the door is a woman. When she hears me move, she turns around to look at me. It’s Mia.
“It was an idiotic thing you did,” she says, sneering. “I don’t know why you people think it will be some kind of vacation chained to a hospital bed.”
I don’t answer her. I don’t have the energy to. I let my head roll to the left, where one arm is heavily bandaged. Blood stains the inside of the gauze, but it seems to be okay for now. My right arm, however, is handcuffed to the hospital bed.
“Are we in medical?” My voice is hoarse, raw. Mia shakes her head and looks away, pretending to be interested in something out in the hallway.
“Seattle General. The wounds were too deep to keep you in the prison ward.” She pauses, then turns once more to look at me. “But you already knew that when you held the blade to your arm, didn’t you?”
Ignoring her, I struggle to sit up, but the cuffs on my wrists only allows me so much room. I feel alone suddenly, wishing that it had been Jaxon at my side instead of Mia. But it doesn’t matter. Not now. Regardless of who’s here, my plan is already working.
“Can I get some water?” My voice comes out in barely a whisper. Mia seems to debate this for a moment, then she rolls her eyes and comes into the room to pour me a cup from the pitcher of water near my bed. She holds the straw to my lips so I can drink, and a second later a bubbly nurse comes in to check me.
“How are you feeling, darlin’?” she asks, checking my vital signs. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m okay. Can someone help me to the bathroom?”
Mia looks hesitant, but the nurse—Nurse Annie—smiles kindly.
“Of course, sweetheart. Are you okay to walk?”
