- I can't leave you for a moment, - he whispered more to himself than to me. - Are you ok? - i nodded then he turned to T-Bag yelling.
- Get out! - Lincoln came back to see Michael dotting over me. I pushed Michael off of me and took my own sleeve and wiped myself.
- Emma you're gonna create a rash, - Michael whispered.
- I don't care. I want his touch off of me, - i responded. - I haven't fucking showered in days, and now l have this molester's germs all over me.
Michael nodded and took my hand from me before lowering it. - Then you will shower soon. I will make sure you are ok, - he told me before going back to the CO. The CO was pushed out of the cell and Abruzzi threatened him while I stayed by Michael. He took my hand and squeezed, and i glanced up and seeing him mouth, - It's going to be ok.
All the inmates went back to the cells, i witnessed the CO get stabbed by T-Bag and my face instantly fell. That man was just murdered in cold blood, in front of me and all i could think about was, this wasn't the first time.
The next morning, the prison felt different. The tension from the riot still lingered in the air, like an invisible weight pressing down on everyone. I moved through the cafeteria line, barely registering the food i picked on my tray - scrambled eggs, an apple and a piece of bread.
I did not care about eating. The fear from the night before clung to me like a second skin, and the bruises on my neck and the aching stitches in the arm were a reminder of how close i'd come to losing my life. I moved toward a corner of the cafeteria, where i usually sat alone, but as i passed by a table, a hand grabbed my wrist gently.
- hey, - Michael's calm voice broke the fog in my mind. - come sit with us.
I looked up, meeting his gaze. I hesitated for a second, but then Michael pulled me closer, gesturing to the seat beside him. Across the table was the man he shared the cell with, but i never caught his name. He had a kind face and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Michael smiled as he introduced him. - this is Sucre, - he said, nodding toward his friend. - Sucre, this is Emma. - Sucre gave l me a warm easy smile.
- hey, nice to meet you, - he said, nodding toward my tray. - food here sucks, huh? They've been serving the same eggs since I got here.
I managed a small smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. I sat down, feeling Michael's gaze on me. He had this way of seeing through people. Michael squeezed my arm lightly, as a form of affection.
The conversation between Michael and Sucre continued, i barely heard it. I kept my gaze down, pushing the eggs around on my plate, unable to shake the images of the riot.
Michael noticed. - Emma - he said softly, leaning closer so only i could hear. - you've been quiet. What's going on?
I didn't look at him right away. I kept my eyes fixated on the food, fingers gripping the edge of the tray. Then, i muttered in a low voice, - I need to shower. - I was about to get up, but Michael grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down.
- I know you do, but that's not why you're quiet. Talk to me. - Michael looked to see me.
- Why are you escaping with someone like T-Bag? - i whispered then glanced up to meet his eyes for the first time this morning. - He's a rapist, a murderer...he has done damage to people.
Michael sighed, his expression softening. - I don't want to, - he admitted quietly, his voice steady - but sometimes you don't have a choice. I'm not doing this for T-Bag. I'm doing it for people who deserve a second chance. For people who can't survive this place much longer. - his eyes searched mine, the weight of his words sinking in. - and I'm not just doing it for me. - I looked away, the conflicting emotions swirling inside her making it hard - Emma, I want you to come with me, - he whispered.
I looked at him and saw how serious he was about this. - I'd be killed by my father's people, if I don't go back to them, Michael. -
Michael was quiet for a long moment, his gaze softening as he watched me. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to make sure i heard every word. - I get it. I know how it feels to lose hope, to think that getting out won't change anything. - he paused, choosing the right words - but if you do come with me. I have a plan, and you won't need to go back to the mob. No more blood on your hands. You'll be out for good. You will be with me.
I swallowed, my throat tightening at the thought. I hadn't known anything else for so long - violence, power struggles, the constant weight of my family's criminal empire hanging over my head. It was all i'd been part of since i was a teen. Could i really walk away from it?
