His eyes widen with a snide smirk. "Yeah, pretty special, huh?" He moves on ahead of me and I follow. "This is where I lived before—"
"You escaped." I'm not sure it looks like it was hard to escape from. I turn around, looking behind us at where we came from, and I can see everything below us: the pit, the sheds, and the trees.
"Exactly." Approaching the black, metal door, he places his hand around the handle. "Look I know you're sick of me bossing you around and shit, but do me a favor, don't make eye contact with anyone in here. And don't talk to anyone." I didn't really need the warning this time after what happened with JJ because there is no part of me that wanted to talk to another person right now.
"Sin?"
He turns to face me, the color on his face even less than the last time he looked at me. "Yeah?"
"If you escaped, won't they recognize you now that you're back?"
He laughs softly and nods his head. "You don't need to worry about that."
"Sin?"
"Why are all of these people here in this town?" I have asked this now several times, and he has yet to answer me.
He releases his hand from the door and grinds his jaw back and forth for a quick second. "I wanted to conceal the reality of our situation for as long as I could, and that is why I haven't given you an answer to this question. But, I regretted this decision when I went looking for you after the pit fight. You should know."
"So you're going to tell me now then." Please, just tell me.
He looks down as if he's gathering the right words to describe whatever is going on in his head. "I take it you've heard of Applebrook?"
"Of course, that's where my mom used to work." The hospital for the criminally insane. Mom wanted to make a difference with those who chose the wrong path in life. That is who she is—was. Always trying to do good for those who couldn't do it for themselves. I never questioned why she chose the career she chose. It always made sense. She changed lives and that made her happy, which was good since I can guess that she hasn't felt much happiness in the past three years I've been gone.
"Yeah, I know. Well, as you're probably aware, Applebrook is run by the state, and the state has strict laws. And of course, when laws are broken, secrets develop. Jackson Crownwell—"
"That was my mother's boss. I met him a few times." He was a quiet man, but he didn't need to use words to get his message across. He was one of those people you were immediately intimidated by. He held this kind of power with just the way he carried himself. His hands were always folded in front of him, hanging below his waist, and I remember his eyebrows being slicked in a straight line. For some reason, that always stuck out to me. It made his face always look angry. His shoes clicked loudly when he walked down the halls, and he smelled like expensive cologne. People waited on him hand and foot and no one would blink in his presence. Although, as strange as I find it, Mom never seemed afraid of him.
"Yes, Jackson Crownwell is a crook with a very large gambling problem. He takes the state’s money and rather than investing it into the hospital as he should, he uses it for personal gain. Because of this, the patients at Applebrook don't receive the proper treatment—medication or professional help. Patients aren't moving through the system because of this, which has caused a population overfill situation."
I'm looking at Sin with confusion, but strangely I understand it all and I even think I know where he's going with this, which causes a large pit to form in my stomach. "So, Chipley is—"
"Chipley is the overfill for Applebrook. The people in this town are those who were not well enough to move on from Applebrook. This town is made up of two-hundred untreated, criminally insane prisoners. And us.”
My head spins with understanding, with fear, and anxiety. I'm essentially locked in an open forum prison with some of the most dangerous people in this state. And Sin. What about Sin?
"You were in Applebrook," I say, looking for confirmation I don't need. I saw him there when he was being taken away.
"Yes," he says, opening the door to the hospital. "Follow me."
I suddenly don't want to follow him into this building, but he needs care. "Why is there a hospital here too?" I ask, afraid to know how much worse this can get.
He stops with one foot inside of this dimly light, empty room. "Because some of us are meant to rot to death. Some of us don't get the opportunity to fight for our life. Instead, we're supposed to die slowly, alone, repenting every sin we've committed. We don't deserve a quick death. We deserve torture. Unless of course, you find a way out."
"Are there guards?" I ask, now walking through the musky foyer.
He laughs. "No. There are caretakers who deliver our rations, but they only appear when lights are out and when everyone is allegedly secure." This is a nightmare. A real life nightmare. "And no, you are not safe walking in here."
I am not safe anywhere. "Just bring me to medical supplies. Quickly." He laughs again. Why is this funny? How is this amusing? The hallways are lit by faint, hanging lights, and there are whispering conversations filtering through the air. I don't see anyone, but we walk past barred walls, locking in a kind of darkness I can't see through. "Is everyone locked up?"
"Supposed to be."
The farther we walk, the more constricting the air feels. The scent of mold, mildew, and something else I can't quite put my finger on is so pungent it's sickening. "Hey baby," a voice yells. "Are you my last meal?" Instinctively, I look toward the voice, only to see hands gripped around a set of bars we're passing.
Sin's hand grips tightly around my arm as he pulls me down the hall at a faster pace until we push through a door on the right. "The medical supply closet is downstairs."
Walking down these stairs feels like I'm walking into a dark basement with no lighting—what I thought was everyone's worst fear. Turns out, I'm guessing this might be everyone's worst fear. We walk through another door at the bottom of the stairs and into an unlit hall. "You know where you're going?" I ask quietly.
