12. AURORA #2
This morning I manage a whole three minutes of alone time under the water before anyone else comes in.
Taliesin never showers at the same time as me, just waits, eyes averted.
As we return to the block, the bell rings for breakfast and we head up for chow.
Sitting down I look at the slop which is yellow and smells even more weird than usual.
“Curried oats?” I grimace. I force myself to think of the food as the finest kedgeree, and that helps me get it down.
“Probably to cover up the mold taste,” Clay grumbles. “The kitchen just grabs whatever spice they have most of—in this case, curry powder.”
Gross. Spooning in the vile slop, London pops into my brain—which he does quite often if I’m honest.
“Hotter than my nan’s vindaloo.”
How long do they keep people in that stupid solitary? Having him, his grinning face and wild chatter, around the place would be amazing. I just know it.
Somebody wolf-whistles, and I look up to see three girls enter the chow-hall. Dot stomps in first, middle finger raised. Layla follows, her arm looped through Candy’s, keeping the smaller girl tucked into her side.
Candy is trembling, her eyes fixed on the floor, her small hands twitching at the hem of her oversized gray scrubs. The whistle definitely didn’t help put her at ease.
“Are you done, Princess?” Taliesin grumbles, nodding at my bowl. He always seems to be grumbling.
“Yep.”
“Good, clear the dishes.”
“Yes, boss-hole,” I reply. I don’t say it with any heat though. I understand having me look subservient to him is a good thing.
I’m headed to the bussing station when I hear a shriek.
I turn in time to see Danny looming over Candy. His greasy hands reach out to grab at her zipper. "Come on, mousey, let’s see what you’ve got."
Danny never finishes the sentence. Dot’s hand moves like a piston, driving her fist directly into the soft tissue of his throat. The sound is a sickening crunch.
His eyes go wide as saucers, hands flying to his neck as he collapses onto the grimy tile floor.
Dot watches impassively as his face turns a mottled shade of blue. “Touch her again, Danny, and I’ll make sure it’s impossible for you to swallow solid food, permanently." Dot’s voice is flat and cold and one hundred percent unflinching. Several Diggers around her cheer.
Taliesin is up and with them in seconds.
He pauses in front of the fallen-Danny for a moment, like he’s deciding the best course of action, then gives the rat a sharp, but not deadly, kick to the ribs.
“Did you hear her? Because if she doesn’t finish the job, I will.
You ever touch a Digger girl again, and I’ll personally make sure you’re fed through a tube for the rest of your life. Got it?”
Fuck.
My heart does a flip.
I really shouldn’t be having any feelings toward this man, but when he does and says things like that, I’m not going to lie.
That thought is quickly cut off as Candy tugs on my hand.
“Hey, Candy. Sorry that happened. Are you OK?”
She whispers something so quietly I have to bend to her height and ask her to repeat it. “Do you want me to tell him my story?” she mumbles from under a curtain of lank hair, nodding toward Taliesin.
Oh.
“It would be a good idea, Candy,” I tell her, realizing she trusts me to make the decision for her. “If you feel up to it?”
“I’ll be alright if you stay with me.” Her eyes plead for me to agree.
“Of course, I will.” I look up and catch Taliesin’s eye—give him a look that tries to say she’s ready.
His posture shifts. “Let’s find some place private.” Turning, he signals Clay to keep watch over the block, then leads us out of the hall.
Candy holds my hand tightly as we go down the clanging metal stairs, past the humming laundry units to a small, dead-end maintenance corridor where the steam pipes provide a screen of thick, white mist.
Layla follows me in, then sits on a rusted equipment crate. I take a spot on the floor with Candy, leaning our backs against the vibrating wall.
Taliesin stays standing, his large frame blocking the entrance. “Take your time, kid," he says, his voice less impassive than usual. There’s a hint of softness about his tone.
She stares at her, obviously several sizes too big, prison-issued sneakers. “Don’t be mad if I get muddled up,” she says. “It’s kind of scrambled in my head, you know, dates and shit.”
“No one is going to be mad about anything. We’re all just proud of you for being willing to share,” I tell her. “Right, guys?” I give the stink eye to both Layla and Taliesin.
“Yeah, kid. Just do what you can,” Layla replies.
Candy nods. “OK then. Well, um, I don’t remember my mom or dad,” her voice trembling and hard to hear, “the first things in my memory are men in the white coats and a cold room. I don’t know how long I was there, but I think they did something to me—not sex or that kind of stuff, that was later.”
I feel a chill despite the hot, wet air.
“They gave me injections that made my body feel like it was tumbling through space. I don’t know why. Sometimes I had something attached to my head and they’d shock me.”
Taliesin grinds his teeth. As I watch the muscle jump in his jaw, I realize he’s wearing an expression I’ve seen on my brother—the controlled, cold fury of a man born to command.