Page 10 of On Your Life

I never agreed with most of his methods, until now. Looks like I’ll be calling B pod home for the foreseeable future. And I’ll make Conner’s tactics look like child’s play compared to what I have planned for the little killer.

I can’t wait to get started.

Chapter 6

Kira

The loud whistle puts an end to my broken sleep. The sound vibrates through my skull, dragging me out of the few hours of unconsciousness I managed to get.

That asshole finally left me alone last night so I was actually able to rest for a few hours. Uncomfortably, but it was enough to clear some of the constant fog clouding my thoughts.

My brain feels less sluggish this morning. Even if the rest of me feels like I got hit by a truck.

My shoulders groan as I pull my arms out of the jumpsuit. The stiff fabric catches against my skin before finally letting me push my arms through the oversized holes.

It was the only way I could manage to get any sleep. There is absolutely no reason for this place to be so fucking cold.

This morning, at least, it’s more comfortable. Maybe it’s something about the stillness of nighttime that sucks every ounce of warmth out of this place.

During the day, the noise and movement seem to make the air bearable. At night the cold settles in until it feels like I’m sleeping inside of a refrigerator.

My feet hit the metal stool and I’m at my door just in time for the guard to come by with that annoying clicker.

Click.

Click.

Click.

He isn’t the same guard from last night but still looks at me with that same irritated expression, like my existence is personally inconveniencing him. I’m grateful for the slight reprieve, regardless. I hope I don’t have to spend another night around the clepto with a superiority complex.

A large food cart is pulled into the center of the room and Barbara immediately opens the doors. Trays of food are stacked on top of one another haphazardly, plastic rattling against plastic as she passes them out. My stomach growls loudly enough that I glance down at it.

Right. Food.

I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. I hurry down the metal steps and make my way toward the already forming line. It moves quickly and within minutes people are dispersing toward tables throughout the common area.

“Rough night?” Barbara asks, handing me my tray.

As if she doesn’t already know the answer.

“Yeah that guard wouldn’t leave me alone,” I say. “He took my blanket and my extra jumpsuit.”

Her expression changes for half a second. Something almost resembling pity crosses her face but it never quite reaches her eyes.

“I expected that one to give you trouble. His name’s Fox.” She pauses and looks around. “He was your victim’s best friend.”

The blood drains from my face. I grip the tray tightly, my fingers squeezing the thin plastic until it bends beneath my hands. For a second I’m afraid I’m going to drop it. Instead, I turn and make my way to the nearest open table before my knees give out.

My victim’s best friend. My mind races trying to make sense of the situation I’ve been thrown into.

Why would he even want to work around me if that was his best friend? I knew he was pissed off. I knew he hated me but I thought it was just a part of his gleaming personality. With this information, he may actually mean everything that he said. The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine.

A tray slaps down on the table in front of me, snapping me out of my rambling thoughts. I look up and a pair of honey brown eyes are staring back at me.

Blonde curls that look like sunshine frame her face contrasting her tanned skin. I don’t know how someone can look so put together in prison, but she seems to have found a way to make incarceration look easy.

Her hair is neat, her smile is bright, and she looks about as miserable as someone on vacation.