Not a Monster Anymore (Double Crossed Book 2)

Chapter 10

When it's time for dinner, a guard- a different one than the one that brought me in- comes and unlocks our cells, walking behind us as we make our way to the mess hall. Sean walks next to me, guiding me through the halls, helping me to get the right turns.

As I push the doors open, I notice that room is made of a different, more shiny and reflective material than the concrete of the cells, creating the illusion that it's cleaner than it is. The floors are obviously smudged if you look close enough, and the tables and chairs have stains all around them. I doubt this room is ever cleaned.

I follow Sean to the line-up, where he hands me a tray, even though I'm more than capable. In the back of my mind, I wonder if he's trying to provoke me to see if I'll actually hurt someone again, but I push it farther back and try to ignore it, grabbing foods like I would back at Skool. I keep my tray mostly empty, though with enough food to make it look normal. Sean has minimal food on his plate, despite him having said he was hungry.

After grabbing our food, I follow Sean to a table in the corner of the room, assuming that he won't mind if I sit with him. Sean starts eating, and I sit down across from him. He peers up at my tray, eyeing the food in the different sections. "Are you going to eat all of that?"

"I'm not hungry," I answer, crossing my arms. "I just took it to look normal."

Sean's eyes widen. "You need to eat everything," he says, a tinge of panic in his voice. "If you don't, they keep you in the mess hall until you do, and if you keep refusing, they do something worse."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why? It's just food," I grunt, rolling my eyes.

"Prisons and Detention Centers are very anti-self-harm," Sean explains. "They don't let us have any strings, in case we hang ourselves, they don't give us anything sharp so we don't cut ourselves, and they especially don't want us starving ourselves." He shakes his head at me. "If you know what's good for you, you'll eat it. Don't worry, you get used to it."

I pick at the food uncomfortably. Most of my reactions to Earth food weren't exactly positive, ranging from simply making me sick to- one time- seriously damaging my digestive tract for a few agonizingly long days. I'd much rather not have to endure that nightmare again, but the way Sean is looking at me, combined with the knowledge that good behavior is rewarded, I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. When I open my eyes again, Sean is still looking at me, looking slightly confused, but I ignore it and dip the fork into a pile of potatoes and lift it to my mouth tentatively.

Across from me, Sean eats his food without a problem, while over here, my throat is burning with the ingredients that were used to create this food. I'll definitely have a sore throat- or worse, I must emphasize- if I don't figure something out.

Finally, I manage to choke down all of the food on my plate, hating myself for grabbing so much. Sean finishes his, contently setting down an apple core after the last bite. The apple's juice slides down in the form of a droplet, taunting me.

We're escorted out of the mess hall, and brought outside of the building into a yard, where we're presumably allowed to roam free- within the confines of the fence, of course. I find a bench and sit down, Sean following and plopping down next to me. He sits with his knees against his legs, propping his chin up with a fist created by both of his hands. I don't say anything- my throat would hate me for it. Instead, I look around, hoping to sprout an idea of how to keep my throat intact.