Page 13 of However You Want Me

I follow him back down the hall to the room where we sleep—rows of beds, too close together, eight of us in a room. My bed is on the far side of the room. There are no windows in this cell. Thought it was illegal to put this many people in a room without any windows. Just more proof we’re not people at all.

They tell us enough. We act like animals. So we’re treated like animals. We did this to ourselves.

I lie back down in my bed, the staff member breathing down my neck until I’m flat on my back. Laying perfectly straight like we’re supposed to do. Palms up.

He stalks away, and I close my eyes. The bed is hell, too. A thin mattress with springs poking into me. I only have a sheet on top of the mattress. I haven’t earned a blanket and probably never will. No pillow, either. I had one of those for about a week once. I can’t remember how long ago that was. I can’t remember what I did to lose it either.

So I lay my head on the wrinkled sheet over the squeaky plastic mattress cover and zone out. There are always people watching us—footsteps moving past the door, light shining in. I keep seeing flashlights shining in.

I let that stuff fade out. Best thing to do is keep my eyes shut and try to rest at least a little so I can get through another day.

So I have a chance of seeing that girl again. That’s what I want to wake up for tomorrow. That girl and her eyes. To know she’s still there. That bit of her that’s goodness in this fucked up place.

I roll onto my side and keep thinking about her.

I’m almost asleep when somebody near the door screams.

Damn. It’ll be twice as hard to fall asleep again now. I open my eyes, but I don’t move the rest of my body. I stay still and in place knowing what’s next.

Heavy footsteps come down the hall. Mr. Jay stomps into the dorm, his shadow huge in the doorway.

He leans over the bed and punches the kid in the face.

The kid gasps and lets out a strangled sob. Mr. Jay punches him again. The kid finally catches on and stops making noise. Nobody else moves. They’re all still on their sheets or, if they’re lucky, under their blankets.

“Out of the damn bed,” Mr. Jay says to the kid. He’s curled up on a bare mattress, his arms over his head. “Up.” He’s sobbing now. Why did he scream?

Was it in his sleep?

My throat goes tight and my eyes prick. I stay still knowing how many men are out there. Knowing if he just listens, they’ll stop.

The boy at the end of the row gets out of bed. His hands go to his face. If he didn’t have a broken nose before, he does now.

“Walk,” Mr. Jay says. The kid looks like he can barely stay on his feet, but that doesn’t matter to people like Mr. Jay.

They go out into the hall. The kid doesn’t come back that night.

HALEY

Present Day

It’s almost dark when I walk up the sidewalk in front of Aden’s house. It should probably be lighter out, but clouds rolled in this afternoon. It’s spitting rain. Not enough to be satisfying, but enough that the droplets are starting to cling to my hair. I’m glad to step under the small roof covering his front porch and shake off the bit of rain.

There’s no light on above the door, making it look like no one’s home. I know better than that. The house always looks like no one’s home. The grass is always cut, but the front lawn isn’t landscaped. One of the previous owners planted a rose bush at the front of the house. It’s still there, but it’s not the kind of rosebush that someone looks after. There’s a difference between the plants people tolerate and the plants people love.

I ignore the darkness on the porch and knock.

No one answers. There’s no sound from inside, and no lights coming on.

My heartbeat slows a touch and anxiety seeps in. I shake it off. Everything’s okay. I’m just shaken is all. Which is why I need Aden.

I knock again. Firmer this time. My knuckles turn white and the thinned skin over them actually hurts with each hard knock.

This time, there’s quiet movement on the other side of the door. I know to listen for it, and that’s the only reason I can hear. The footsteps don’t sound like footsteps. If it was any windier, I wouldn’t be able to hear them at all. They’re whispers over the floor. The wood gives, but doesn’t creak.

My heart beats faster as he approaches. I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath.

I can feel him there on the other side of the door. I don’t knock again, although I want to—just a soft sound to let him know that I know he’s there.

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