Page 28 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
There is one guard on duty in the kitchen with us today, and there are five of us working in here, helping with the dishes and cleaning up. Of course we’re not allowed anywhere near knives or sharp objects; those are kept over the other side of the room, but we do help with washing, putting away, and filling the food trays when needed.
Nobody gets away with not working around here.
I’m glad, though, because I’d rather be busy than doing nothing at all. Time seems to go a little faster when I’m busy.
“Alana,” someone calls from the other side of the kitchen. “Got another one for you. She’s causin’ problems out here.”
I turn around to see a guard bringing Trisha into the kitchen. My heart sinks, my stomach twists, and my skin prickles. I don’t want her in here. I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d get away from her until Officer Corel came back. Instead, she’s here, her eyes moving straight to me. Alana, the guard on duty, nods and says, “Help put these dishes away.”
No.
No.
I turn to Alana and say, “Can I work with someone else?”
Alana, angry woman that she is, growls and snaps, “Does this look like a fun ride to you? You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”
“I understand; it’s just that . . .”
“You better watch your mouth, girly, or you’ll find yourself in a lot of trouble.”
I clamp my mouth shut and watch the smile spread across Trisha’s face as she walks over and stops beside me. The evil in her eyes is unnerving. She grabs a stack of plates, and with a slow grin, starts putting them away. Alana glares at me for about five minutes before moving to the other side of the room to help the other girls.
I’m alone with Trisha.
Not entirely alone, but alone enough that she could do something if she wanted to.
“No amount of begging will get you away from me,” Trisha sneers, as she grabs a stack of plates off the counter.
“Please,” I say, my voice frustrated and scared, and a whole lot of different things all at once. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made your point.”
Trisha grins. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to make my point.”
“What is it you want?” I snap. “To have me know that you’re number one around here, that nobody messes with you, that you’re the boss? I get it. You’ve got my attention. I’ll respect your place. Now, leave me the hell alone.”
Trisha’s eyes flash, and she growls, “Little bitches like you are the reason I’m even in here to begin with.”
“So you’ve got a vendetta against girls like me? Because of something I have nothing to do with? Maybe you should look at your attitude as being the reason why you’re in here,” I mutter.
“What did you just say to me, you little white bitch?”
Calling me a white bitch is hilarious, considering she’s a white bitch herself. Trisha thinks everyone in here owes her something, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of her and her bullying.
“I said,” I step closer, “your attitude is the reason you’re in here. Don’t blame girls like me. Girls like you need to attack girls like me so you can make yourself feel better. You’re scum. You’re lower than scum. You just haven’t admitted that to yourself yet.”
I know the moment those words leave my lips that they are the worst thing I could have ever said to her. Her eyes grow cold, and she grins, slowly, and whispers, “You just made a huge mistake, little girl.”
The stack of plates in her hands drops, and the moment they hit the ground, they shatter into hundreds of sharp pieces. My eyes widen, and I quickly lean down to start picking them up. Trisha leans down too, but I don’t see the sharp piece she has picked up in her hand. She moves closer as I hear Alana yell, “What the hell?” and Trisha drives the piece of glass into my side.
Pain explodes through my body, and my mouth opens on a silent scream. She pulls the sharp piece out, and then drives it in again. The plate is so sharp, it goes through my clothes with ease.
Alana rounds the corner, and Trisha quickly throws the piece of glass into the mix of hundreds and pushes to her feet, looking to Alana. “I’ve cut my hand. That idiot dropped all of these plates. I need a nurse.”
Alana starts yelling, and other guards come in, but I can’t move. I can’t think. The pain in my side is unbearable. I’m being hauled to my feet before I know it, and no amount of pained protest has anyone listening to me. I’m dragged back to my room with the promise of great punishment for an act like this.
