The Cure for Sleeping

Chapter Eighteen

It's actually pretty nice in the cell.

It stretches to a spacious four paces by five, white walls stark and blinding in the fluorescent light. There are no windows, no circulation vents, and the see-through door is sturdy when I throw my weight against it. The only furniture is a metal cot bolted to the ground, a stainless steel sink with rounded edges, and a toilet. A little black camera leers at me from the corner of the room. In the past few weeks, I've had considerably worse roommates than the little black camera, leering at me from a high corner. Most of them were spiders. So, all in all, this is not the worst place I've holed up in. Really, I could make my self quite comfortable in this claustrophobic death-trap of room. 

The only problem is the complete lack of stimulation.

I spend my time testing the boundaries. I kick at the bolts holding down the bed, try and yank the sink out of the wall, throw my boot at the camera. I steal the sheet off the cot, and tie it to the camera, giving myself some semblance of privacy until a solider comes and yells at me. I don't have a sheet anymore.

I lie on my bare mattress, hands folded on my stomach. I wonder when my trial will be. There's no chance of it being fair in the slightest, so the best outcome of that for me is a lifetime in jail. I don't feel like Warren is the sort of person who will keep me alive without reason.

I hope that Noah's okay. The troops got a few good hits in before I left, and after Elijah it feels wrong to leave him alone. I know that Thea will be alright, eventually –she'll wreak some havoc and stir up trouble to distract herself. She'll fight to get me out, but I'm not expecting much of a result. Hazel will be fine. She'll outlive us all.

I roll onto my side, facing the wall. Josh betrayed me. He told Caroline and nearly got me killed. I should have expected something of this sort, but I didn't. I saw Josh as the teasing, light-hearted guy that I first met, someone who would protect his friends with his life. That isn't who he is now. Josh is a soldier, and I need to remember that.

There are no clocks in the cell. The guards took my watch –probably just out of spite– and each second feels like an hour as a result. My stomach starts to protest its missed lunch when I hear noise outside the cell. I sit up, legs folded under me.

The door hisses open, and Josh walks in.

His uniform is clean and pressed, but it's the only thing pristine about him. His hair is limp, falling in front of his eyes. He slouches against the wall instead of standing straight. He looks tired.

"You look calm," He's on the opposite side of the room, next to the door. He crosses his arms over his chest.

"It's the adrenaline. When it wears off, I'll be trying to strangle you with my shoe laces."

The corner of Josh's mouth turns up, but his eyes don't meet mine. "Look, I just came to say that I'm sorry. I told Caroline about your sister this morning. I just thought that it would be another piece of gossip to her. I didn't think she's react the way she did." Josh trails off, expectant. I stare at him. "You know, trying to stab your eyes out and all."

"Thanks, I remember. So, say it."

"Say what?"

"That you're sorry."

Josh unfolds from the wall, tugs the sleeves of his uniform down. "I'm sorry for what Caroline did, and how far all this has gone."

"Alright, apology accepted. You can go now."

Josh takes a step toward me. "Avery–"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Josh. I'm on death row. I'm not here to comfort you, to pretend that I'm just peachy with being blind-folded and shot in the head. I'm in this cell because I told you a secret that you chose to share. I don't want to talk to you."