Page 30 of Framed

Maybe it was worse than I originally thought.

“Bad dream?”

My heart almost stopped beating at the sound of the voice. I turned my head and locked eyes with Winter. She was lying on her stomach with a book nestled in her hands on my couch.The Art of Warby Sun Tzu. It was still relatively dark in the room and even though she had some kind of light doohickey strapped around her head I could recognize that red book cover in the darkest depths of night.

I’d hope so, especially since I’ve read it more times than I cared to admit afterthatnight.

It was my own form of sweet self-torture. A walk down memory lane if you will.

“Jesus and Mary,” I cursed. “What are you doing here? What time is it?” My voice was scratchy and hoarse as if I’d been screaming for hours. “And what the hell is on your head?” I pointed to the light illuminating the room with a small glow.

“A little after midnight, and you were screaming in your sleep. I thought you could use some company. It’s a light.” Her tone was matter-of-fact as she answered the questions in the order they were asked.

Shit, that hasn’t happened in a while. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” She waved her hand in dismissal, her gaze shifting back to the book as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “I have a dose I can’t miss in an hour, so instead of going to sleep, I just decided to stay up.”

I noticed that she did this often. There have been many nights when I would walk into our living room and find her up watching the clock with a pill bottle clutched in her hand.

“Art of War, have you read it?” She raised the book, unknowingly confirming my previous thought.

Only a thousand times.

“How sick are you?” It was a presumptuous question and a desperate attempt to change the subject. Winter and I were cordial and made friendly conversation on occasion. But aside from the one time I awkwardly, by necessity, crashed her cafeteria hang out, neither one of us has made any attempt to be anything other than roommates.

While I was open to the idea of a fresh start, I still was wary of letting anyone close. But something inside of me told me that we could actually be good friends if I allowed her to be.

Admittedly, the thought alone scared me. I couldn’t let anyone else in, only for them to drop me as if I was nothing.

However, I couldn’t say that I wasn’t concerned about her well-being. I’d never encountered anyone who had a long-term illness, but if I had to guess, they would look as shitty as Winter has the past few days.

And shitty was the polite version.

The girl who’d spent the last few days laid up on the couch seemed like a zombie. The complete opposite of the girl I met only a few days ago.

She glanced up from her book and stared at me. Her eyes had bags under them and her skin was as pale as a ghost. I stared back and tried not to focus on how crazy she looked with the contraption on her face.

“Who’s Xavier?” she asked after a moment of silence. Her raised eyebrow told me she knew she had me.

I masked the surprise, or I thought I did. My face must’ve looked crazy because she offered, “You were mumbling in your sleep.”

Of course.

Sally had never mentioned that tidbit of information during the years we shared a cell together.

“Touché,” I replied coolly, in a deliberate effort to not give away how thrown I truly was.

“Don’t worry about me, Scarlett,” she reassured as she looked away. “I’m fine.”

I didn’t believe her but I didn’t push.

It wasn’t any of my business.

A comfortable distance was a stance I wanted to remain at.

It was better this way anyway. There was too much going on, so much I didn’t know about how I really ended up incarcerated and I didn’t want anyone getting wrapped up in that.

A knock sounded at our door and our eyes locked once more, silently asking one another if we were expecting company. An eerie feeling struck my body as we both shook our heads at the same time.

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