Page 25 of No Way Back
Shut it, you stupid bitch.
A single tear rolls down my cheek.
Mila is my best friend, practically my sister. She has always put me above herself, even if she hasn’t been the best at thenormalfriendship stuff. Even now, dating her ex’s best friend, she doesn’t hold it against me. She doesn’t judge me for falling for someone who contributed to her pain and public humiliation. Hell, she even puts a show on, being more decent to him than he could ever deserve.
Mila’s always been that way. In the same sentence she’d call me a dumb slut, she’d make sure no one else was hurting my feelings. When we were kids, she was the one on the playground chasing and throwing rocks at the boys who teased me.
This distance we’ve had since graduation—no, since she got with Harkins—I’ve tried not to take it personally, understanding that she had finally met the man she had been meant for.The pain of growing apart from my best friend isn’t one I was prepared to feel.
I can’t abandon her again.
“You dumb fucking slut,” I whisper to myself, invoking my inner Mila as I pull the cell door open and step out.
It’s too dark to see anything, but that gives me the advantage of being harder to notice. There area lotof bodies on the ground, so I decide staying low is better. I crawl over them. Some moan, some squish under me, their blood already cold and thick on the ground. I keep going on all fours, hands and knees one in front of the other, unsure where I’m even heading.
I hear a sound, a crinkle, something that sounds like a bag of chips opening right above me. I’m afraid to look, afraid to move, so I shut my eyes tight and hope that if I stay silent, I won’t be noticed.
It feels like minutes pass before I even breathe, but then I feel a heavy pressure on my injured hand. The scream forces itself out of my throat before I’m able to process the foot crushing my fingers, the faint orange of a jumpsuit less than an inch away from my face.
The pain doubles, like more weight is being put on my hand, and there’s nothing I can do. I cry, hitting at the leg in front of me with my free hand, but it does nothing. “Please,” I beg.
A giggle comes from above me before the bag crinkles again, and I hear a crunching. “You’re not supposed to be here.” I look up to see corn flour blonde hair cascading down as a female inmate bends over to look at me. She holds something black pinned between her arm and her side.
She’s got some sort of snack bag in her hand and makes no effort to stop chewing to assess me.
“I-I was here for the—”
She stops me. “For the tour. To gawk at the prisoners.”
I shake my head, the pain in my hand intensifying, and it’s all I can do to pull at my wrist with my free hand in the hopes that it’s enough. “P-please, it wasn’t like that. It’s Halloween.”
“It’s Halloween,” she says with a mocking tone, throwing another handful of chips into her mouth. “So you came to be entertained.”
I nod, but she’s not watching. Instead, she’s emptying the bag upside down into her mouth, shaking it for crumbs before she crumples it in her hands. With a casual toss behind her shoulders, she turns her attention back to me, a decaying smile spreading over her face. “Then let’s entertain you, pretty girl. I got a couple hours before they lock me back in my enclosure.”
Her laugh is startling, but it's the sound of metal hitting the ground next to me that fills me with fear. She dropped whatever she held under her arm, and when I look, I see it’s one of the guard’s batons.
My body works faster than my brain, but when I reach for the ASP, I feel a hammering at my nose. I hear a crunch, warm blood falling freely down to my lips, but my hand is finally freed. I cup my nose with both hands, wailing from the pain before I can even piece together that she kicked me.
I say the only word I seem to remember. “P-please!” I crawl backwards, trying to put distance between us, but cell bars stop me.
I’m cornered again.
“Now, now, you’re too pretty to cry.” She reaches for me, wiping a tear from my eye before it drops.
“Don’t hurt me.” My voice is a quiet plea, every inch of me shaking uncontrollably, waiting for her verdict.
“Oh, baby, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Her grin is malicious, disgustingly rancid, and the closer she gets, the less I believe her. “Be a good girl for me, and maybe we can both get something out of this.” She laughs, unzipping her jumpsuit and standing over me, now nude.
The lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe, but I can’t swallow it down. My body has forgotten how to do anything; it no longer understands what’s required to survive.
She crawls over me, my body trembling, but no part of me is actually cold. I’m drenched in sweat, struggling to breathe from running through this prison, and yet my teeth clash against each other in a percussive fury as if otherwise.
The inmate holds the black ASP in one hand, the other pushing me down onto my back so that I’m laying on the concrete floor. “P-please,” I ask once more, a tear dripping into my ear.
Her fingers pull at the zipper on my jumpsuit. I can’t fight the panic as it overwhelms me, flooding every inch of my body until it no longer lets me lay still. I squirm, thrashing my legs under her as she exposes my flesh. The sharp sting of a hand across my face makes my head swim, the sound of her voice muffling for a brief moment before I register she’s speaking.
“Did you hear me?” Her tone is angry, and she holds the baton in her fist.
