The blueprint to the psych ward. The intricate tattoo of the prison layout was inked across his body. - It burnt off, - i whispered more to myself.
Michael nodded, his eyes darkening. - It's destroyed part of it. A key section. I don't have access to it anymore.
I frowned, reaching out to touch his hand. - Michael, who cares about the blueprints right now? You're hurt. You could've been.. -
- that's the problem, - he snapped, taking his hand back. - you're worried about me when you should be worried about the escape. Do you realise how crucial the part of the plan was?
Without it, we're stuck. - his voice was snappy. Never had i seen him this angry.
My brows furrowed, my own frustration starting to bubble up. - I am worried about the plan, but I'm more worried about you, Michael! You could've died or gotten an infection.
- you're not my girlfriend, - he cut. I froze the sting of his words like a punch to the gut. He avoided my gaze, his jaw clenched as if he didn't want to have this conversation
at all. - this isn't a relationship, - he muttered, his voice low - you knew what this was. We've got bigger things to worry about than whatever this is between us.
My chest ached, a wave of vulnerability crashing over. I tried to hold it back, tried to stay composed, but his dismissal cut deeper than I expected. - I've been vulnerable with you, Michael. I've told you things, shown you parts of myself no one else has seen. I've been honest. And now you're telling me it doesn't matter?
- It's not that it doesn't matter, - he shot back,- there's more at stake here than your feelings or mine.
- I don't care about the damn plan right now! - I finally snapped, voice rising, - But if you don't want me to care about you i can fucking stop you hypocrite - i yelled at him before leaving him there alone.
There was still tension between me and Michael. We have not uttered a word between one another since that morning besides talking about Pl or the escape plan with the group. Everyone was in the storage room, painting. I leaned against the table with a paint brush in hand. I was more focused on the fact I got paint in my hair.
- Fuck, - i whispered, trying to take the white stuff out of my long locks. I set down the brush as i tried to come through it and take her sleeve to remove it.
- what's wrong? - Michael asked, talking to me for the first time since that morning.
- nothing, - I responded, not even looking him in the eye.
- Emma - he tried again.
I turned to him. - I said, nothing. Mind your damn business, Scofield, - I snapped. Michael's eyes widened as I took my hair and put it in a bun before grabbing the paintbrush again.
- trouble between the couple? - T-Bag mocked.
- no - Michael and I both said as we went back to work. Bellick came in eventually after the panic of putting everything back, so he doesn't see the hole. He whistled as he entered.
- This place is sweet. I heard were getting satellite, - he retorted as he sauntered in.
- yeah, all the porn you can watch, boss, - T-Bag smirked.
- good, good, - Bellick said. - you know, you girls...and lady, - he looked over to me, - have done such a good job, I thought you could use an extra pair of hands on the crew.
Michael glanced up from looking at the ground to look at me, but i was already staring at him. We knew what this meant. Silence was between the group. Bellick whistled and Tweener walked in, swaggering with a smirk across his face. I rolled my eyes.
- what's up? - Tweener nudged, trying his best to look cool. My brow rose and I scoffed before going back to work. Michael let out a loud sigh.
Tweener was humming when I turned around. - can you shut up? If I wanted music, I would've brought a radio, - I stated.
The team voted for Tweener to go clean the brushes as the needed time to fill the hole. I threw mine into the bucket too and looked at Michael. - I need a break, I'll come.
Me and Tweener stepped out of the storage unit, the faint smell of paint and chemicals clinging to clothes.
The air in the prison hallways was stale, but it was a relief compared to the cramped, stuffy room where we'd been cleaning for the better part of the morning. I felt drained, physically and emotionally. My mind was still swirling with thoughts of the argument with Michael, the hurt still raw and gnawing at me.
- so, - Tweener started, breaking the silence, his tone casual but not convincing. - you and Scofield, huh? You guys, like, got a thing goin' on?
- no, - i replied curtly, voice sharp - we don't have a thing.
Whatever you think, it's not like that.
Tweener raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a cold response. - oh, my bad, - he said, lifting his hands as if in defense. - i thought everyone was looking out for themselves. He's different, maybe you know why?
- everyone's looking out for themselves, huh? So why are you so interested in what Michael's up to? What, you got something you want to report back to Bellick?
Tweener's face tightened just slightly, the flicker of guilt crossing his features before he could hide it. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out awkward. - whoa, whoa, what? Bellick? Nah, I ain't no rat. I'm just sayin', you're close to him. People talk. Figured you'd know stuff, that's all.
I took a step closer to him, my eyes hardening. I wasn't buying any bit of this. - you think I don't see what's going on? You've been hanging around Bellick more than usual lately, haven't you? You're not subtle, Tweener.
Tweener swallowed, his boasting fading. He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.
