2
Chapter Two
Sin
FIVE DAYS AGO
I take a seatat the kitchen table and clasp my hands together, staring at the back of her head as she puts the roast together. I haven't eaten in hours and I'd happily eat that thing raw at this point. "Dad called again."
Mom drops everything and cleans her hands off on the dishrag, but doesn't turn around. Her shoulders slouch forward before they straighten back out. I hear a heavy breath expel from her lungs as she turns around. "How do you suppose he found us?"
I look into her sad, hazel eyes as she traces her fingertip down the length of her scar that reaches from her eyebrow to her lip. "He won't be able to get in here," I tell her.
"I wouldn't put much past him, darling." I wouldn't either.
"I won't let him hurt you again," I assure her. "I would—"
"Don't say it, Sinon. I know what you're capable of. I don't want you to be like him. You understand that, right?"
"Of course, Mom, but I'll do whatever I have to, to keep you safe."
She sits down in the chair across from me and takes my hands in hers. Her lips press together and a tear falls from her eye. "I love you very much."
"I don't like it here," I tell her. It has been six months and I haven't figured out how to adjust to this environment. I'm not sure anyone could adjust to this place. I didn't question Mom when she made the decision. Her life has always been devoted to research on the human mind. She isn't afraid of the prisoners like most people would be. She's like a psyche whisperer, or so she calls herself.
She has spent most of her adult life hopping from prison to prison to assist with counseling as well as research. When she was given this opportunity in Chipley, she saw it not only as a golden opportunity, but also a chance to escape our life with Dad.
"It'll take a while to get used to," she says, as if she’s already used to this completely inhuman compound. I'm here because of her. I'm seventeen—not old enough to be on my own, plus she needs me.
"Can we leave if we need to? Is there a way out?" I've asked her this many times, but she won't answer me. She tells me she was sworn into this society as a caretaker and has committed to keeping certain information classified. I'm not exactly sure who I would tell even if I had the opportunity to do so, but Mom takes her work very seriously.
"There is, yes," she responds curtly. A helicopter dropped us in. I was given a sedative and fell asleep in an office, then woke up here. They told me it was for my own safety.
"But you won't tell me where or how to leave," I confirm.
"Do you want to leave, Sinon?" I look at her for a long minute, debating my answer.
"Yes, but I'll stay with you," because I wouldn’t have anywhere else to go if I left. She knows this. Her question is invalid and I know it as well as she does. Dad lost the custody battle after his last episode and I can’t imagine one relative who would take me in, even if it were only until I turn eighteen.
"It's only for a year more," she reminds me. "Then you and I will go live up north, and we'll start over." She smiles at the thought. She's always talked about moving to Boston since there are so many great job opportunities for her profession there. I'd be happy to live in a city and have a different kind of life than what I've always known.
"One year," I say, leaning over and placing a kiss on her cheek. "I'm going to get back to work."
"Dinner will be ready in two hours. I have a night shift tonight, so we need to eat earlier," she says. Her night shifts involve delivering food drops to the Level One prisoners confined to the hospital at the top of the hill. That building gives me the creeps. “Oh, and don’t forget about your school assignments. You have a few more to complete by the end of the week.” Home-schooled, compound-schooled; same thing. I miss my high school. My friends. Wrestling. The longer I’m here, the more hostile I feel toward Mom for pulling me away from a life I enjoyed.
I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and head back outside to continue chopping wood—not exactly my career aspiration, but it keeps me in shape. Although, the work seems endless since there's a never-ending need for wood considering the sheds are always going up for the new prisoners. When I got here, there were only a couple dozen, but now there are at least fifty.
I get through almost a half cord of wood before a tap on the shoulder pulls me out of my focus. I drop the ax and wipe the sweat from my head. "Hey, man. How's it going today?"
"Good, good. I got two more sheds to build this week. These folks are pouring in by the dozen this month, huh?” JJ says.
"Yeah, I don't know what's going on," I tell him. "I can get you another quarter before I call it quits for the day."
"That works. Your ma home?"
"Yeah, she's cooking dinner."
"Anything good tonight?" JJ eats over a couple nights a week. I'm pretty sure JJ sleeps over a couple nights a week too. We do the whole “don't ask, don't tell” thing because I don't want to know. I want Mom to be happy, but it's still weird to see her with anyone besides Dad.
