Royal Havoc

12. Promises

twelve

Promises

Tulip: 2009 Age: 12

I ’ve noticed nothing ever changes around this place. It’s always dark. Sometimes, little bits of sunshine sneak through the high windows, scaring away the creepy crawlies, but usually, it's just dark and quiet.

I probably would have forgotten how to talk if B wasn’t here. He’s the only reason I get out of bed most days.

Boys are pretty gross, but he’s growing on me.

The door at the end of the hall opens, and I hear two sets of feet along with a scraping sound. It’s odd.

The steps stop outside B’s cell. Then, I hear a thump, and someone groans. I hold my breath, trying to listen to what’s going on, but no one is talking.

After the bars on his cell slam shut, the footsteps leave, slamming the door at the end of the hall.

I scurry to the edge of my cell closest to his. “B?” I whisper, waiting impatiently, especially when he doesn’t answer. “B, talk to me,” I whisper louder, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “Brock, make a noise or something,” I demand quietly, freaking out from the silence.

He grunts, and I hear his feet scuff across the concrete slowly. “Shhh,” he hisses, sliding down the wall.

“What happened? Are you okay?” I whisper, kneeling beside the wall, wishing I could see him.

Tears leak from my eyes while I wait for him to answer. “The chair,” he coughs.

“What? Why?” I gasp.

“Shhh, don’t let them hear,” he grunts.

I’ve only been threatened with the chair. I’ve never seen it. I’m not even sure what happens. Hearing B, I’m guessing it’s pretty bad.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No,” he grunts, holding in a cough.

“I hate this place. Someday, I’m going to end them all and get us out of here,” I promise him quietly, meaning every word.

If I’ve learned anything from The Row, it's good girls don’t lie. Ever.