The girl is already gone. They dragged her up the stairs while the first blows landed. The door at the top groaned open, swallowed her, slammed shut. Matt’s stunt didn’t buy her a second. It didn’t change anything. She’s through that door anyway.
When they’re done the wiry guard steps back, wipes his knuckles on his pants like he just finished a chore. They grab Matt by the ankles and haul him back across the floor. Blood trails in smears behind him. They throw him onto the mattress. The door clangs shut. Padlock clicks. Locked.
I’m still standing at my fence, forehead pressed to the links, breathing through my teeth. The metal stings cold against my skin. My hands shake so hard the chain rattles.
Matt doesn’t move.
"Matt."
He's face-down on his mattress. Blood everywhere, dripping from his nose and mouth. He rolls onto his back with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in his chest. His eyes find mine through the fence. One is already closing. Blood coats his teeth when he grins.
"Couldn't just watch."
"You absolute idiot."
"Probably." He spits blood sideways and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "She was a kid, Vi."
"I know."
"So."
So. Like it's the simplest equation in the world. Kid in danger. Body available. Math done.
I tear a strip from my shirt hem and push it through the fence. "Press this to your nose. Pinch the bridge. Lean forward, not back."
He takes it. Presses. Winces. "Is it bad?"
"Looks broken."
"Thought so." He tilts his head, adjusting the cloth, as the blood pools in the crease of his upper lip before he spits it clear. "I was never going to win any beauty contests, but this really closes the door."
"You're not funny."
"I'm a little funny."
I press my forehead against the cold fence, my eyes burning, but I don't let them spill. Not now. "Thank you. For what you did."
"Don't thank me. She's still up there."
Yeah. She is.
His breathing is wet and labored through the broken nose, and he keeps tilting his head, trying to find an angle that doesn't hurt. After a while the blood slows and his breathing evens out, but neither of us speaks, this place having taught us silence is the safer bet.
"Vi?"
"Yeah."
"The person you're missing. When you wake up crying." He's looking at the ceiling, the cloth pressed to his face, his voice easy in the way that means it isn't. "Is there someone? Here, or back home? Someone who'd come for you?"
I should lie. Every instinct I have says lie. Keep your cards against your chest and play this close.
I open my mouth to do exactly that. To say I don't know, maybe, the same non-answer I gave last time. It's right there, the safe version, the version Elena would approve of.
But Matt just got his face rearranged for a girl he'd never spoken to, and there's blood in his teeth and warmth still in his eyes despite all of it, and I am so tired of carrying this by myself in the dark.
"Not home," I say. "Here. In Italy."
Matt turns his head on the mattress. His eyes find mine through the fence. "Tell me about him."
