Within These Walls

Chapter 10

I toss and turn most of the night and give up on sleep early in the morning. The whole block is quiet and dark. My heart's beating unevenly, gripped by unsettling reminders. I press a hand over it and let the hard pounding ground me to reality.

Those swimming lessons weren't the only things Sam ever did to me. There were other incidents, like that time in eighth grade when he found out I'd joined track without his permission.

You want to run so badly?

He threw away my one trophy and took me out onto a lonely stretch of road, telling me I had two choices: to outrun his Buick or get mowed down and left dead for the coyotes. I ran for an hour before my legs gave out. One of his back tires went over my right hand, breaking several small bones. I don't know to this day if Sam meant to do that or if he couldn't swerve out of the way in time. But he didn't waste sympathy on me when he pulled over. He held my wrists tightly and told me to quiet down unless I wanted to do it again. Then he took me home and wrapped the hand himself.

He found other ways to torture me under the guise that he was making me tougher. Right from the start, Sam effectively quelled any rebellion to come.

Control yourself.

Stay away from those kids.

Be quiet.

This is for your own good.

I never believed that last one.

The bathroom is empty when I walk into it. I don't allow myself to linger. I shower quickly, rub myself dry, and change into clean clothes. It takes me a few minutes to brush my teeth, but the whole time all I can think about is the bracelet, like a bomb attached to my wrist, capable of going off at any moment.

Gathering my stuff into a bundle, I leave the bathroom and run into a broad chest. I almost drop my stuff before I realize it's not one of the people who took Baxter. Fear dims into wariness. Marcus isn't exactly a better alternative.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Not much of a morning person, are you?"

I try to slip past him, but he sidesteps into my path. The bathroom light floods over his body, lighting up his face. His amused smile.

"What do you want?" I ask again, softer this time.

"What do I want? To get out of this place. Hell, I wouldn't mind a cheeseburger at this point, but we can't always have what we want."

I tighten my arms around my load. "Look, I want to be ready when the alarm goes off, so I'd like to return to my room. Please move out of my way."

"Sure, I'll move out of your way. Soon as I figure out who you are." My breath hitches when he steps closer. "Are you the girl who watched Knobby get dragged away without any fear on her face? Or the one who ran off when I said a few . . . harmless words this morning? Seems like someone's hiding something."

My heart is thudding somewhere in my throat. I swallow it back down. "I could say the same thing about you."

I immediately regret my words, but it's too late. Marcus's smile has disappeared.

"What does that mean?" he asks.

"Nothing. Forget it."

I brush past him, but he grabs my forearm. "You don't get to say something like that and walk away. Tell me what you meant."

If I were looking for a fight or trying to psych him out, I'd point out what I've observed about him so far. How he's loud and angry when others are around, but he's quieter, more cunning than crass, when it's just the two of us. It's like he puts on a show for other people.