Winter Went | #2 Winter Series

Chapter 10

|| Josh ||

She lies in a crumpled heap, blanket cast aside. He notices the way her elbows protrude, the hollowness of her cheeks. She looks nothing like the smiling girl he could get a blush out of. Instead she looks half-dead.

Yes, he thinks. Dead on the inside.

She eyes him warily, eyebrows furrowed, a haughty expression taking over her features. Her normally-frizzy hair lies limp on her fragile shoulders. She looks weak, he thinks. But then again, he has never seen her so strong.

She knows who he is. She knows the truth about his duty.

Duty, not ruin.

The guard busies himself with opening the cell door. It creaks in protest and swings in a wide arch. Soon there's no barrier between them. With a step forward, she's within reach.

"Get up," says the guard, his voice low and rough. "This 'lil lad will be taking you now."

Her eyes stay locked on his. He returns the stare, devoid of all the fake-warm he projected last year. Once he'd earned her trust, it was all about deploying the main plan.

She rises from the bed, rucksack swinging behind her, and he notices the limp. Her leg is still tied in a bandage that looks like it hasn't been changed in days. She pays no attention to it, however—it only seems to give her slight trouble walking and nothing else.

Amelia leans forward and the guard wiggles a key in her handcuffs. She rubs her wrists, which are red-raw, and takes the hand of her sister. He stands watching them, observing. Maisie clings onto her tightly, and the incoherent words she often mumbled grow louder. 

"Right, that's it," says the guard, who too has been watching the reunion between the siblings. "Hurry along."

The guard turns to him and Joshua nods in reply. Closing the gate behind him, the guard sets off, leaving the three of them in a dark, dank corridor.

Joshua blinks and turns, heading in the same direction as the guard. But he only goes a short way before the voice stops him.

"Stop," comes Amelia's voice from behind him. He turns. She's standing beside the door to her cell, Maisie tight in her grip. "We can't go yet."

Her voice is quiet, but he notices a sense of power in it.

"Angie," Amelia explains. "Angie's here."

He raises an eyebrow, wanting to look like he couldn't care less. "And?"

She grits her teeth, which are yellow. "What do you think, idiot? That we're gonna leave her behind?"

He remains silent for a while, contemplating whether to voice his thoughts aloud.

"Leave her," he says. "Leave the little brat and come with me."

As soon as the words are out, he sees the change in her face. Her dark eyes turn impossibly darker and her jaw sets.

"No," she says coldly. "No! I am not going anywhere without your little brat! Angie's not a brat! The only brat around here is you, with your stinking little ego and the way you think you can trick girls into doing whatever you want!" she pauses for a minute breath. "And I have no idea why you suddenly pop up out of nowhere! Don't you have somewhere else to be? Snogging other girls? Sucking up to your beloved Sarah?"

"Sarah's dead," is all he can say.

"I should bloody well hope so!" she roars. Then, she grabs her sister's hand and begins marching down the hallway. "You deserve to die, Joshua Middleton! That's all you deserve, nothing else. A painful, excruciating death!"

She drags herself down the hallway.

He takes a moment.

The next thing he knows is that he's sprinting down after her.

"Fine!" he shouts. "Fine! Fine! We'll go save that br—Angie!"

She doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge what he said.

If that's what it takes to get us out of here, he thinks, then so be it.