And then the world turns to shit.
A hand snakes through the bars, slamming around my neck. Before I can even gasp, the second hand reaches through, clamping onto my left breast with a bruising grip.
I twist my neck to find Officer Copeland’s face inches from mine on the other side of the steel. He’s grinning, showing his yellow teeth like a jackal.
“I heard your moans, Drakeward,” he mutters, his breath smelling like stale, sour coffee. “Seemed like you were asking for something.”
I don’t scream. My throat is locked too tight and anyway. Fuck him.
I shove my palms against the bars, throwing my weight forward with a desperate lunge. Copeland’s hands snag on my collar, the fabric tearing with a sharp rip before I finally break his reach. I stumble back until my spine hits the opposite wall, gasping for air and fucking FURIOUS.
Not today, asshole, not today.
He just stands there, wiping his hand over the crotch of his uniform pants. “I liked those groans, Drakeward. Keep up the good work.” Then he turns and disappears into the shadows of the hallway, the jingle of his keys mocking me all the way down the corridor.
Fuck.
Fuck him.
Fuck my life.
My left breast is throbbing where he’d grabbed me. That bruise is going to be interesting to explain away in the showers.
Though maybe not. Bruises where there should be none are an everyday event in Quo.
Fuck.
Tell someone.The thought flashes through my mind, but I kill it instantly. If I admit what just happened, I’m weak. I’m the victim.
Nope.
I smooth down my torn collar, tucking the shame into the same dark corner where I keep all the fucked up memories.
Nothing to see here.
Aurora Drakeward doesn’t break.
But she does curl up on her cot in a tight ball and wish she was a million miles away.
A few minutes later, something small and heavy flies through the bars, landing with a dullthudon the cot next to me. I nearly jump out of my skin.
When I swivel around, half-expecting Copeland to be back, I see the back of Taliesin’s head as he silently exits the block again.
I reach for the object. It’s half a bar of dark chocolate.
Holy shit!
On my bed is half a bar of chocolate.
When the sugar hits my tongue it feels like the best fucking medicine in the world. Copeland disappears, the bars disappear. It’s just me and the cocoa plant in happy harmony.
Two minutes later I come down from the sucrose-induced trance and try to get my bearings. Tally got me chocolate.
Seems like he and I have reached a strange detente. He’s still the Boss, the king of the sub-levels, but in this cell, he’s the man who teaches me to fight, reluctantly smiles at my snarky comments, and sneaks me emergency PMS candy.
“Shower?” Taliesin asks.
“Gods, yes.” I’m already moving toward the door. The only thing worse than a prison shower is acrowdedprison shower, and the early morning is the only time the block isn’t filled with bodies.
