NUMB

Day Forty-Four (pt. 1) - Jet

"That's an awful idea," I say. Tasha paces back and forth along the wall of the room. She's been doing that since she met me back in the East Wing and it's started to put me on edge. I'm surprised she hasn't worn the linoleum thin already. I don't dare tell her to stop though.

"Well that's the only thing I can think of," she retorts.

I watch her as she pauses in her steps, rubs at a spot near her elbow. Her plan is awful, really. It could get her in a lot of trouble. I can't believe she even suggested it, really. If I'd said anything remotely like what she's suggesting we do, she'd be ranting and raving about how her job safety would be on the line.

"Will it work?"

"I don't know what else we could do, Jet." She fixes her gaze down at herself. Picks at imaginary lint on her uniform. "I know everyone thinks I don't care about them. About the Numb and the way they're treated in here." Her eyes bounce to me, but it's a fleeting glance. "I'm not as coldhearted as you think."

"I—"

She holds a hand up and continues on, "I do care about them. I wouldn't help at all if I didn't. But I do have to take care of myself as well. This plan...I'll probably lose my job for doing this."

There it is.

"But I'm starting to care less and less about it. What's my job compared to their lives?" She looks at me again, this time keeping her gaze locked on mine. "I'm not a horrible person. So I'm going to do this, since this is all I can do to help them."

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Nobody thinks you're coldhearted."

She gives me a wry look.

"When do you think you can get this done?"

"Tomorrow, probably. At least, I'll try. Sooner than later and all that, right?" She smooths down her shirt, then nods her head. "Tomorrow," she repeats, like she has to convince herself of it.

"I'll let everyone know."