by Lynette Noni
As much as I want to refuse any help from Ward, I’m not prideful enough to turn my nose up at a good meal. Especially when it might be one of my last.
I ladle a spoonful of soup and blow on it before placing it in my mouth. I can’t keep my eyes from closing — it’s either that, or have them light up with pleasure.
The soup is divine. Thick chunks of chicken, creamy stock and lashings of vegetables — real vegetables. Nothing can compare, certainly not my gruel and nutri-shakes.
“Nice, huh?” Ward says.
I force my eyes back open and find him watching me.
“Esther is a real whiz in the kitchen. She’s tried teaching me, and I’m not too bad, but she’s a cooking ninja. Luckily for me — and you, today — she keeps my fridge well stocked. There’s plenty more where that came from, so eat as much as you want.”
I wish he would leave again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he remains standing and waits while I eat. I force myself to act indifferent, even if his continued presence is ruining the nicest meal I’ve had in years.
When I’m finished, Ward asks if I’d like any more. I feel so content, being both full and warm, so while I’m tempted by his offer, I know better than to push it. The last thing I need is to bring it all back up over his shaggy white throw rug.
When I don’t respond, he sighs again — irritated this time — and leaves the room with my empty bowl in hand, promising he’ll be right back.
Upon his return, I watch apprehensively as he walks over to me. When he stretches his arms out, I recoil. It’s an automatic response, honed by years of self-preservation. Ward’s eyes narrow a fraction, and a muscle tenses in his cheek, but his anger isn’t directed at me.
“I won’t hurt you, Chip. You know that, right?”
My only response is to turn my face away. He can read from that whatever he wants.
“Look,” he says, “I’m guessing you need to use the bathroom, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to walk there on your own. Prove me wrong if you can, but otherwise you’re going to have to let me help you. Either that or I call my aunt. It’s up to you.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. I do need to use a bathroom. And Ward’s medic aunt is right about me needing to rest. I only wish I wasn’t being forced to sleep here, use the bathroom here, get help here. Much as I’d prefer to be cared for by his unknown aunt, I don’t want to take up any more of her time or attention.
I grit my teeth and reach out a shaky hand, wordlessly giving him my answer.
He laces our fingers together without a word and pulls me to my feet. When I sway, he unlocks our hands and circles his arm around my waist, drawing me flush against his body. I have enough energy to feel mortified by my new position, but there’s little I can do about it. It’s a struggle to keep my legs from buckling, and I end up having to lean most of my weight against him.
“I’ve got you,” he says.
As if I’m not acutely aware of this fact.
“Let’s do this quickly and get you back into bed.”
Quickly isn’t fast enough, but I nod anyway and let him guide me down a short hallway and into a tastefully decorated bathroom.
“Do you need me to stay?”
My eyes snap up to his face. He looks one hundred percent serious and not uncomfortable at all. My skin is on fire at the very idea of him remaining in the room while I go about my … business.
With jabs of my head I make it clear that I want to be left alone. He has the audacity to let out a quiet chuckle.
“Fine,” he says.
He swivels me until I’m leaning against the wall.
“Knock when you’re ready for me to come back in. If I think you’re taking too long, I’ll check on you regardless.”
The moment he exits the room, I use the wall for support and hurry over to the toilet. When I’m done, I move to the basin and rest my weight against the bench. I’m halfway through washing my hands, when I look up and see something that causes me to jerk with shock.
There’s a girl staring straight at me.
Her blue eyes are big — too big — and her dark hair is messy — too messy. There’s a rosy flush in her cheeks, but she looks exhausted otherwise, with deep shadows marring her pale skin.
I reach out a trembling hand and press it against the mirror. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, that it’s really my reflection staring back at me. I look the same but different — so different. When I look at myself now, all I can see is my parents. Their faces flash across my mind until stars burst in my vision. I realize that I’m holding my breath, but I can’t seem to force oxygen down my clogged throat. I’m suffocating on the knowledge of what was, what is … and what will never be again.
“Time’s up, Chip. I’m coming in.”
Ward’s warning is all it takes for me to rip my hand from the glass, but I can’t yet remember how to draw air into my lungs. I watch through the mirror as he opens the door and catches sight of my shell-shocked face. He hisses out a quiet curse and strides quickly across the room, then turns me from my reflection until I’m facing him.
“I’m sorry. I forgot about the mirrors.”
The stars in my vision are blurring now, with flashes of light and dark. All I can see is them.
And me.
Them and me and me and them and them and me and —
“Hey, listen to me, okay? I need you to take a breath. We’ll do it together. In and out. Come on, Chip. Listen to me breathing. In —”
Something about his urgent tone penetrates through the fog of memories. I focus on his commanding voice and shove the images away, sucking in a ragged gasp of air.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “And let it out again.”
I do as he says.
“Good, Chip. Again. In … and out. And in … and out. Just like that.”
My vision is beginning to clear, and with visual clarity comes the stark realization that once again I’m pressed up against Ward’s body, but this time his arms are around me, supporting almost my entire weight. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a panic attack, and I’ve never had one as severe as this. I’m not sure what would have happened if —
“You’re doing great.”
Ward squeezes me reassuringly.
“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?”
He doesn’t wait for me to agree before he reaches for a better hold and swings me straight up into his arms.
I let out an audible squeak of surprise, and his arms tense around me. His startled eyes meet mine, but I press my lips together, bite the inside of my cheek and look away from his wondering gaze.
A lifetime passes before he turns and carries me back to the bedroom. There, he lowers me gently onto the bed, then tucks the covers around me.
I’m holding my breath again, but not from panic this time. Or at least, it’s a different kind of panic. It’s the I’m-so-stupid, What-was-I-thinking, Does-he-realize-what-almost-happened kind of panic.
I know he heard me squeak.
And he must be wondering: If I have a voice, why won’t I use it?
A thousand scenarios flash across my mind, ones where Ward sits, ones where he remains standing, ones where he calls Director Falon or even Vanik. In every scene, the questions come pouring out. I can’t envision a way for me to get out of answering, not after what Ward heard.
What I don’t expect is for him to raise a hand to rub the back of his neck, releasing a breath that relaxes his visibly tense body.
Nor do I expect to hear what comes out of his mouth next, spoken in a soft, almost warm voice.
“Get some sleep, Chip. The director is away now, but I contacted him earlier, and he’s agreed to give you tomorrow off. Rest as long as you want, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Just like that, he’s gone, leaving me gaping after him.
What happened to the interrogation? To the unending questions? To the demand for answers I will never be able to give?
Perhaps he’s com
ing back with Vanik after all. Or the guards. Or — no. I don’t believe he is. Because I saw the look on his face, and I heard the warmth in his voice. There will be no answers asked of me tonight, despite the questions I saw in his eyes. For some inexplicable reason, he’s giving me a reprieve.
I’m confused. But I’m also grateful. And I’m going to take advantage of his silence for as long as he’ll let me. Or at least for however long I have left.
Sixteen days and counting.
After that, I won’t have to worry about questions ever again.
I won’t have to worry about anything ever again.
The thought leaves a tangy taste in my mouth, the dread almost overwhelming.
I’ve never been suicidal. There was a reason I locked myself away from the world rather than eliminating myself from it — I don’t want to die.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, especially when I’m alone in my cold, hard cell late at night. But here, tucked safe into the warmth and comfort of Ward’s bed, it’s easier to recall the dreams I once had, the future I once envisioned …
… the life I once lived.
Everything changed in a split second. And nothing will ever be the same again. I know that. Every single day, I remember. And tonight, Ward had a front-row seat to what happens when I take a trip down memory lane.
He was there through it all. He held me close and carried me to safety. And then he didn’t ask the questions I know he’s desperate to have answered.
I can’t help thinking that maybe he’s not really my evaluator at all.
But if that’s the case, then I don’t know what he is. Who he is. To me.
All I know is, right now, I’m in his room and I’m not going anywhere. I might as well enjoy this luxury, even if it is only for one night.
Because tomorrow, I’m back in my cell. And all the silence that comes with it.
CHAPTER SIX
When I wake the next day, I’m feeling almost completely better. It’s amazing what a comfortable bed and a ridiculous amount of sleep can do for the human body. Even my head no longer aches.
I roll my neck and shoulders, and it feels so good that I flex my other muscles, moving downward until even my toes are limber. Part of me knows I’m putting off the inevitable — once I get out of bed I’ll have to face the day, and that means seeing Ward. But there’s no point in hiding, so I throw aside the blankets and push myself out of bed.
I’m pleased to discover that I’m only slightly wobbly, but I take my time heading to the door. Each step seems to bolster my strength, and by the time I reach the hallway I’m walking with confidence, ready to meet Ward and deal with whatever may come next.
The only thing is, it’s not Ward I find in the kitchen.
My steps falter at the sight of the girl rifling through the fridge. I wonder if I should retreat before she sees me, but I don’t decide fast enough, and she turns around, catching a glimpse of me.
“Oh!” She places a hand to her chest, startled. “I didn’t know you were awake. I wanted to have breakfast ready for when you got up.”
My brow furrows. She looks too young to be Ward’s aunt.
“I’m Landon’s sister, Cami,” she says, moving toward me. “He told me I can call you ‘Chip,’ but you don’t look like a Chip to me.” She tilts her head and waves of golden hair pour down her shoulders. “I know Jane’s not your real name, but for now, I think I’ll stick with that — if it’s okay with you?”
I don’t know why she’s asking me. I don’t even know why she’s here.
Ward is nowhere to be seen, so I wonder if he’s tasked her with watching me, to make sure I don’t take off — not that I’d even know how to get back to my cell from here. In any case, Cami doesn’t look like she’d make a very good guard. She’s all angelic smiles and sunshine, glowing from the inside with all the color that the rest of Lengard lacks.
“I hope you like pancakes,” Cami says, motioning for me to follow as she moves back to the fridge. “I don’t know how to make much else, but my pancakes are amazing.”
She pulls out milk, eggs, butter and a pint of strawberries. After she dumps them on the bench, she opens the cupboard and retrieves some flour, syrup, vanilla extract and — are those chocolate chips? I haven’t seen chocolate, let alone tasted it, in years.
Cami laughs suddenly. “You should see your face. Here.” She hands the chocolate packet to me. “Have at it.” When I hesitate, she nudges me and says, “Go on. From what I’ve heard, you haven’t exactly been spoiled during your time here. You deserve a little indulgence.”
Needing no further encouragement, I tear open the bag and pour a handful out onto my palm. One by one I place the chips on my tongue, closing my eyes in ecstasy when the taste hits me.
Cami snickers. I know I must look ridiculous, but I can’t help it. Chocolate is considered a girl’s best friend for good reason. Nothing can compare.
I tip out another large handful and force myself to place the bag back on the bench before I’m tempted to finish it off.
Cami shoves a bowl into my arms. “Whisk this for me, will you? Stop when it’s light and fluffy.”
I haven’t baked anything since I was a child, but I’m relieved she’s given me a task. It means I’m not standing around awkwardly, wondering what to do. Wondering why I’m not coming up with a plan to escape before Ward returns. It also means Cami trusts me to complete her instructions with limited supervision, and I feel a trickle of anxiety when I realize that I don’t want to disappoint her. It’s been a long time since I’ve cared what another person thinks.
I can’t handle where my mind is leading me, so I focus instead on following Cami’s instructions while she bustles around the small kitchen, turning on the stove and melting butter in the pan.
I’m not sure what “light and fluffy” means, but when I think I’ve whisked enough, I tilt the bowl for her inspection and watch her eyes light up. Cami’s eyes are green like Ward’s, but hers are darker, richer. Less … knowing.
“Perfect!”
She takes the batter from me and stirs in the choc chips before moving to the stove.
As she begins cooking, I wash and slice the strawberries. I finish just in time for her first batch of pancakes to be ready. We grab plates, cutlery and the bottle of syrup and move to the table to take our seats.
“You have to try it like this,” Cami says, sliding a perfectly golden pancake onto my plate, dousing it with syrup and piling on the strawberries.
It looks like a mouthful of cavities waiting to happen, but I’m willing to risk a trip to the dentist if it means I get to enjoy what’s resting in front of me.
“Dig in,” Cami says, constructing an identical mountain of sweetness for herself.
A single bite is all it takes for me to realize that my life will never be the same again. And it’s not because of the incredible taste; it’s because I stupidly — stupidly — moan out loud …
… Just as Ward walks into the room.
He stops dead at the sound and stares at me in astonishment. It’s all the proof he needs that my squeak last night wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
The pancake turns to ash in my mouth.
Cami giggles. “I think she likes my cooking. Don’t you agree, Landon?”
Ward’s eyes are locked on mine. “It certainly sounds that way.”
I think I may throw up.
“Have a seat, big brother. This is one of my best batches yet. But Jane did all the whisking, so half the praise goes to her.”
Ward moves slowly toward us and lowers himself into a chair. Cami passes him a plate, and he finally flicks his eyes away from mine when the door opens.
“I hope you’ve saved some for me,” Enzo says, sauntering into the room and dropping casually into the seat beside me as if we’ve breakfasted together every morning of our lives.
Cami creates a pancake mountain for him and dances back to the kitchen to cook up more batter. I’m left sitting a
t the table with Ward opposite me, Enzo beside me and gaping silence surrounding me.
At last, Enzo speaks. “Nice outfit, JD,” he says between mouthfuls. “Looks comfy.”
“Enz,” Ward says, his voice carrying a warning.
“What? It does! She should wear your clothes more often is all I’m saying.”
I’m grateful when Cami returns with another steaming pile of food. She flips a second pancake onto my plate and places the remainder in the middle of the table. Ward and Enzo devour the offering so fast that I’m left staring. When I catch Cami’s amused eyes, I can’t stop my lips from curling up at the corners, a secret smile I share only with her.
Or, that’s what I think, until I see Ward staring at my mouth, just before Enzo says, “I’ve never seen you smile.”
His words have the same effect on me as a bucket of icy water.
“Over two and a half years,” he continues. “I’ve been missing out.”
I drop my fork with a clatter and push my plate away, unable to stomach any more. I wonder if that was Enzo’s intention, since he surely can’t be pleased about the calorie intake.
No one says anything. But then —
“I asked you not to come over this morning, Enz,” Ward says.
He reaches for my discarded plate and claims my leftovers as his own. I force myself not to react even though I’m surprised by his overly familiar action.
“Did you really think I’d miss a chance to have Cami’s pancakes?” Enzo asks through a mouthful of food. “Besides, with JD here, I knew it was bound to be an interesting meal. A laugh a minute, this one. Can’t get her to shut up.”
Cami snorts, presumably at my less-than-impressed expression. Enzo grins right along with her, and even Ward’s dimple makes an appearance.
“You’re right, Enz,” Cami says. “It is interesting having Jane here.”
“‘Jane,’ huh?” Enzo says. “You’re not going with ‘JD’?” He flicks his gaze over to Ward. “Fake or not, it still makes more sense than ‘Chip.’”
I will not look at Ward. I will not look at Ward. I will not look at — Damn it, I’m looking at him. Worse, he’s looking back at me. Between us, we hold a secret, and despite everything, despite knowing better, I still love — and hate — the reason he chose his name for me.