Winter Went | #2 Winter Series

Chapter 8

|| Josh ||

He pushes his way inside, knowing that he has to be confident otherwise he'll never fool them. Except that he isn't going to fool them, he reminds himself. He has the right to do what he's going to do, just not in the way they expect.

No one expected him to arrive at Windfell Prison except Sarah, who told him to.

He arrives at the desk, trying not to look too much around him. This place is like a shabby slum. The paint peels off the wall layers at a time, showing ugly, grey cement underneath. The floors are filthy, slipping under his shoes. And yet he knows that even with his washed hair, his clothes don't look the part either.

Maybe there is a place for him here, he thinks, without him even realising it.

But he contradicts himself. It was not ruin. It was duty.

So, he grips Maisie's hand tightly and boldly meets the eyes of the guard sitting behind the desk chewing on a cereal bar and looking like he has lots of better things to be getting on with.

"Hello," he says politely.

The guard looks up, startled for a minute. Then he relaxes and a scowl appears on his face as he addresses the two of them.

"What?" he growls.

Joshua ignores the reply and taps his nails lightly on the desk in his impatience.

"I've come to collect a prisoner," he says loudly.

The guard scoffs. "What? You think I'm gonna lend those psychos out to ya?"

Again, Josh ignores the comment and begins again. "I have an ID if that's what you need."

The guard leans forward. "Lemme see it then, laddie."

With as much confidence as he can muster, Josh pulls the badge out from his pocket and thrusts it into the guard's face.

"Joshua Middleton," he says, quieter now.

The guard's eyes shoot upright and he swears violently. Josh doesn't flinch.

"Aight, you that little Joshy, are you? Sarah's 'lil pet?"

"That's the one," answers Josh calmly. "She sent me."

"And who's dat small brat there?" he asks, eyes flicking to Maisie held in a tight grip by Josh. "She your sister?"

"No," Josh replies carefully. Not my sister, he thinks, but someone else's.

"Well, boy," says the guard swiftly, gathering his cereal bar and lifting himself up from the chair. "You better come with me. Which one you hoping to steal?"

Joshua gathers his things and bristly follows the guard down a long hallway, debating whether to tell him the girl's name. Deciding that the guard can do no harm, he answers. And the name rolls off his tongue like a drop of water.

"Amelia Harris," he says. "Take me to see Amelia Harris."