“Hell yeah, I did,” I said proudly.
I’d prove them wrong time and time again. Because I was the fucking Blind Bandit. I was lawless— an outlaw and an outcast.
And there were only so many rules I could follow. I was planning on breaking each and every one.
Chapter Eight
Ava-Marie
As I woke up Saturday morning, my first thought was of Charlie. Oberi lay at the end of my bed and watched me as I sat up, his tail giving a slow, cautious wag as he observed my wild hair.
I rubbed my arm. Last night, I’d felt Charlie’s pain. It came through our bond— a sharp ache radiating through my shoulder, like someone had almost wrenched it out. I knew immediately the pain had come from Charlie. I’d nearly cried, it’d been so painful. I was so concerned, but it was like Charlie was ignoring me. He didn’t even brush against my consciousness afterward, to let me know he was all right. I wanted to go to him, but by that time, the door on my cell was already locked for the night, and I couldn’t leave.
I immediately went to check in with him, but didn’t get any sort of acknowledgement back. I could feel his presence just on the other side of the wall that separated our cells, still and silent. He was sleeping.
I didn’t want to wake him if he was recovering from some kind of injury. Maybe he’d fallen last night and hurt his shoulder trying to catch himself. I didn’t know. I’d leave him be… for now.
My second thought was I had to clean my room. I had to cleaneverything.
I was, by nature, a slob. My clothes, books, papers and anything else I had lay scattered around my cell, lying in piles and thrown this way and that. I sat up and realized how absolutely bothersome it was. Strange, considering I’d never noticed before.
I sprang out of bed. I organized my books, I took my clothes to the laundry, and I even made my bed. Oberi got up to help, pushing things into piles so I could put them away faster.
But it wasn’t enough. I polished my desk with an old washcloth I had, I dusted the curtains.
Meanwhile, in the back of my head, the voices taunted. Oberi whimpered as he watched me scrub and scrub at a black spot on my windowsill that had probably been there for forty years and just wouldn’t come off.
It’s so dirty.
You’re a filthy, nasty person.
What if Ez came in here? He’d get sick, and it’d be your fault.
It wasn’t good enough.Everythinghad to be clean. Sweat beaded across my brow, and my arms began to ache as I scrubbed at whatever was in sight. The germs had to be gone. It was the only way to be safe, to be sure.
I’d been working for hours, and yet, I didn’t feel tired. After my room was spotless, I got a taste for something sweet. I went to the med area, then headed down to the Arts & Crafts room. I signed in and wound around the room to the kitchen area.
There were all kinds of stations in the Arts & Crafts room. There were areas for sewing, a tiny kitchen for cooking, a paper crafting station, a yoga and meditation area, and others. The entire room was monitored at all times, to be sure students who got their hands on kiddie scissors didn’t hide them to stab someone later. Marcus was usually in here more often than not, painting in the corner where the art supplies were.
I took a few supplies from the dingy old fridge. The kitchen in the Arts & Crafts area was stocked, but not well. I’d have to improvise on some ingredients. As I baked, Professor Celosia, who ran the room, watched me with a stern eye. She was a grouchy old woman who covered her hair and never put down her knitting, unless she had to stop a student from doing something stupid.
Her attention was taken away from me when a couple of guys in the corner started poking each other with sewing needles. She and a couple of guards had to escort them down to the Warden’s office, leaving me unattended.
I put in one batch of cookies, but I figured that wasn’t enough, so I made another— and another, and another. I fed Oberi cookies after they’d cooled from the oven. He lapped them up, until his belly was full and he spread out on his back, groaning from all he’d been fed.
Professor Celosia still wasn’t back, giving me free reign— which was probably a bad thing. Just before lunch time, my brother walked in. His eyes widened at all the cookies spread out all over the countertop as I finished washing the last of the dishes I’d used to bake.
“Ez, look, I baked all these cookies!” I cheered. “Two-hundred of them! You want one?”
He frowned. “Why did you bake so many?”
“Um, well, I got to thinking I wanted some, but then I didn’t knowwhat kind, so I figured I should just make a bunch, but I didn’t want to stop, so I ended up with two-hundred.” I grimaced. “Professor Celosia is probably going to be mad at me. We’re only supposed to bake a dozen at a time. I used all the sugar.”
“What are you going to do with two-hundred cookies?” he asked flatly.
I blinked. “I’m not sure. But we’re going to find out!”
I took a basket from the weaving area and began placing the cookies inside. Ez followed me as I walked out of the Arts & Crafts room. I waltzed around the prison and started handing out cookies to anyone who passed by— even the assholes. Cries ofThanks, Ava! rang out over the halls.
