I lift him up, keeping my forearm under his thighs, my other arm at my side as I carry him down the stairs. There’s still some distrust as he holds himself stiff like he’s testing me to see if I’ll keep my word. When I put him back on his feet at the bottom of the stairs, he gives me one of his small smiles then holds my hand again.
I want to grab him, keep hold of him so no one can hurt him, but he’ll trust me less. I don’t give a fuck about what happens. When Delilah and I get away from these cunts, he’s coming with us. We’ll be a family—me, Delilah, and our two babies.
We walk deeper through the hallway in silence. He tenses when we reach a room set up as a canteen with long rectangular steel tables and chairs and a buzzing fluorescent tube light in the center of the ceiling.
The tables are empty, apart from one set in the shadows where three guards sit with their backs to us, their masks resting on the table beside them. I lightly squeeze his hand to get his attention, but he ignores me as he guides us to a table in the middle. Once we’re seated, a masked guard steps out of a door in front of us with two trays, placing them in front of us without a word spoken.
It’s definitely a prison. The metal tray has grooves separating each portion of mystery food. I tilt the metal cup to see the color of the liquid.
Clear.
Clear is good.
There’s a ripped loaf on one side of the tray, some kind of brown stew on the side. It doesn’t look appetizing, but Kid drags a corner of the bread through the stew. As he brings it to his mouth, he whispers, “It’s rabbit day.”
An animal, not a person.
I always hated the sound of chewing when I was younger, then prison made me crave the silence so I could hear if anyone was behind me while I was eating. Now, I’m torn as I watch the trio in the corner, sitting taller, my eyes flickering to the side to watch for anyone who may approach.
We’ve nearly finished eating when Kid leans closer to me and picks up the steel cup with one hand, the other dropping below the table to grab the side of my leg. His eyes are wide, staringover the rim of the cup as one of the unmasked guards stands. Only the side of his profile is in view as he lifts his mask. Then he turns, showing Kid’s huge fearful eyes and my anger as he walks over to us. There’s no skin on display when he reaches his gloved hand out for the chair opposite us.
“Keep fucking walking.” I kick it away. The guard slowly tilts his head side to side as I look directly into my own eyes in his mirrored mask. “I won. He’s staying with me, so walk. The. Fuck. Away.” Taking one step to the side, he tries to pull the other chair out. I abruptly stand, grabbing the back of his fucking mask, and bring it down into the sharp metal edge of table. Kid tightens his hold on my pants as he’s pulled up with me, but I repeat the motion.
The two remaining guards rush out of the room at the sound of boots thudding against the floor behind me, then Rowan’s voice pierces the metallic crash of the mask hitting the table as he asks, “Dear nephew, are you entertaining without me?”
Five more steps, and he’s behind me. My skin crawls as he slowly places one hand on my shoulder. The other goes to Kid’s head as he says, “Release the guard.”
He stumbles back, quickly straightening his spine to stand at attention for the sick cunt when I let go. The front of the mask is cracked, reflecting back a distorted view of an older man with his hand on each of us as though it’s a family photo.
“Unmask,” Rowan says, despite the fact he has his own face covered.
The guard slowly pulls the mask off and holds it against his middle, his eyes filled with rage solely directed at me. His voice is raspy as he spits, “He does not know his place as an untrained.”
“Fuck you.” I lean forward to grab him.
Rowan tightens his hold on my shoulder, keeping me in place as he digs his gloved fingers into my collarbone. “Do you think you are a bigger authority than I?”
“No, Master.”
This whole master bullshit is creepy as fuck, even if he is coming to my defense right now.
The guard glares at me, his eyes dark and brows set in hard lines as he continues arguing, “This boy has no place here.”
“This boy,” Rowan snarls, “is part of me. You are a mask, a hand I control.”
He opens his mouth to argue again but he’s cut off as Rowan snaps, “Enough!” Using his grip on both Kid and me, he pulls us back as he turns rigid. He walks us out of the canteen, the guard following us with his head bowed.
Kid’s eyes flicker around the space as we’re guided into a large wet room. The bottom part of the walls are covered in steel sheeting, the top in cream, rectangular, beveled tiles with murky grout lines. The floor is covered in smaller, flat versions of the same tile with a large square drain in the middle and a flat showerhead fixed to the ceiling, off-center from the drain.
We’re finally unhanded as Rowan steps back to stand at the side of the room, and the guard mechanically kneels beside the drain. Kid lets go of my hand, choosing Rowan over the safety of me as he tucks his small body beside Rowan’s leg. Rowan reaches around the frame of the open door to something on the outside, sending a hiss echoing through the room. The sound is immediately followed by steam as scalding water falls from the showerhead directly over the guard.
Hot.
Cold.
Hot.
Cold.
