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“That woman needs to not send a small girl to keep up with her work.”
I bite back a smile because I agree completely. I have a sinking suspicion she’s doing it on purpose, wanting me to get hurt. She’s made it no secret that she doesn’t like me at all. Her affectionate nickname for me is The Brat. Dad told me he was thinking about divorcing her. He just wants to wait until the holiday season is over. I try to hold that close when she comes after me with her hateful words and sharp nails -she loves to sink them into my arm like a cat playing with a mouse. Only three more months and it will just be me and Dad again. Just three more months.
I start to look around wondering what is taking Adam so long when my eyes land on a line of prisoners being led from one place to the other. I never stop them to ask where they’re being taken and most of the time keep my eyes down on the ground when they come through. Last time I was here and a group of them came through I felt…different. Instead of looked at, I felt seen. I wasn’t just a slab of fresh meat. It was…disconcerting.
That’s why I don’t drop my eyes to the ground this time. At least that is what I tell myself. But one of the prisoners captures my attention. How could he not? He’s tall as fuck, built like he’s not even real, like something out of a movie. His bright blue eyes rimmed in inky black lashes most women would die for also make him stand out. They do more than look, they bore into a person, staring all the way down to the soul.
Why do I feel like I can’t look away? Why does it feel like I can’t take a deep breath while this guy is looking at me? I eventually pull my eyes away from him and look back down. Is this the reason I felt weird the last time I came? Is he the person I can tell was looking at me?
Before I can stop myself from thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking, a loud siren goes off and echoes everywhere. The sound starts pounding in my temples coinciding with the thud of my heart which has crawled up into my throat.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?!” My voice is shrill over the alarm and full of fear and uncertainty.
A flurry of activity breaks out behind the partition that separates the guard room from the rest of the prison as lights start flashing alongside the blaring siren. Adam comes back out of the interview room and grabs my arm. He pulls me to the smaller of the two interrogation rooms and shoves me inside without answering any of my questions.
“Don’t move! Stay here!”
“Wait! Adam!”
But he’s gone before I can even finish getting the first word out. I go behind the table in the room and hunker down behind the legs of the chairs as the realization of what is happening hits me. It’s a prison riot and I’m trapped inside. With hundreds of monsters way scarier than anything Hollywood can make up.
Chapter Three
____________
Eden
I have to fight the urge to just scream at the unreal things happening to me right now. That’s the last thing I need to do. I need to move this stupid table over to the door and wedge it up under the knob so no one can come in. There’s just one problem…the table is screwed into the floor.
Right when I find this important piece of the puzzle out, the door bursts open causing me to yelp and crouch back down. I cover my mouth hoping the person coming in the door doesn’t find me but it’s no use. I can tell right away this guy isn’t going away. He just confirms everything to me when he speaks.
“Well, well, well. Looks like it’s my lucky day, huh, sugar.”
My stomach lurches as I identify the voice. It’s Robert, one of the sleazy guards that look at me way too long and hates my father because he ‘lets bad people out’.
I see him turn the lock on the door before walking over to the table, “I’ve been wanting a taste of Edmund Granger’s daughter for some time now.”
Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! I have no weapons to defend myself, I have no way to stop this…I can’t even use the chairs because those are nailed down too. I stand and put the table in between me and Robert. He might get what he wants but I’m not going to make it easy on him. I fight down the urge to let my chin wobble as I slowly fall apart inside.
I start creeping to the side of the table so I can try to make a run for it. If I can get out maybe I can find another place to hide until someone can come…stop what is happening.
“I wouldn’t do that sweet thing.” He licks his fat lips as he takes in what I’m wearing. I’m so stupid because I came from helping my dad at the office. I’m in a skirt and flimsy blouse making it even easier for someone to do something bad to me. Like a big idiot. “You see, there’s been a riot.”
He confirms what I feared happened. I choke back the vomit wanting to rush up at the thought.
“You have a choice, sweet thing. You can stay here and deal with me.” His hands drop to the buckle on his belt. “Or you can walk out that door and deal with hundreds of men waiting to take their own taste.”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I’m halfway around the table trying to think of option number three when Robert makes a lunge for me. The time to decide is up. I’ll take door number two, Bob. I dance out of his reach and make a run for the door, knowing all too well that I’m going to have to fumble with the lock. But before I can even reach it, the door is kicked in hard enough that it bangs against the wall behind it. Noise comes pouring into the room. Horrible sounds of men shouting and people screaming. But the scariest thing is what is standing in the doorway of the interview room.
Standing at the door is the big prisoner who caught my eye standing in line just minutes before. And he is even bigger close up than when he was standing behind glass. He raises his hand and a loud sound echoes through the little room causing my ears to ring. I turn and see a red cloud behind me on the wall and at my feet…Robert.
I start backing away from the man. He has a gun and there is no glass separating the two of us now.
“Come!” His voice is rough, like he doesn’t use it very often and deep. “Now!”
Before I can stop myself, I move closer to him. It’s a subconscious motion that I do before I can think of why I shouldn’t.
