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"Don't bother," I said, "I'm going to take care of this one myself. Instead, you'll need to find a new home for a dog named Colbi."
FORTY-ONE
The next morning,I awoke with a jolt, everything rushing in at once. The gunshot wound in my shoulder ached where I'd accidentally slept on it wrong. I had a tattoo of a scorpion crawling from my collar up to my neck. I was back under Manuel's control, except now, I had the most innocent creature with me.
Honey had snuggled close to me in the night, her little fingers wrapping around my palm.
It was so cute and sweet, the most intimate gesture I'd ever seen her make in the short time that I'd interacted with her.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me. Slipping my hand from Honey's, I scrambled to get off the bed. Rolling over, I fell off it, once again. Pain ricocheted up my arm and side and the food from yesterday came lurching up my throat.
I made it to my hands and knees just in time as it spewed outward, chunks of undigested food spraying across the concrete.
When I was done, I heaved, hating the itching sensation crawling up my arms. My stomach was still burning with acid; I could feel it surging up my throat again.
I forced it down, watching as Honey's feet swung from the bed.
"You threw up." She slapped a hand over her mouth as she stared down at it. Grabbing the blankets, she pulled them up and over her head, burying herself inside them.
"Honey?" My voice was gentle, but I was freaking out inside. If someone was watching the cameras, they would be here soon.
"Yes?" She peeped her head out, her eyes wide.
"I need your help."
"You do?" She scrambled out of the bed, pulling the comforter with her. Falling to the floor, she began to try to clean up the vomit with the blanket.
"Oh," I gently placed my hand on her arm. "Not that. Don't worry about me. We need to try to escape."
"But you just threw up!" she exclaimed, gesturing disgustedly at the vomit. "You're sick."
"Look, we don't have much time. I'm sure someone will be here soon." I gently tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the mess on the floor. "This has happened before. I'm going to be okay."
I used to get like this when I was married to Manuel; my body was reacting to being near him again.
The sound of the key in the door made my heart thud loudly in my chest. "Remember your promise last night?" I asked her, unable to keep the panic from my voice. She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes wide. "I need you to pretend to cry, okay? We need to get him inside the room."
She glanced towards the bed again, as if she wanted to get back under the covers, but instead, she nodded, her face tight with fear. "Okay."
"What's going on here?" A guard I didn't recognize stood in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a white tank top. To my luck, a gun was slung on his hip.
"She's sick," Honey blurted out, pointing at the vomit all over the ground.
The guard gave me a dubious look, until his gaze caught sight of the chunks of veal and broccoli. His doubt was quickly overtaken by repugnance. "Oh, gross, ese."
Honey started bawling. "She needs help getting up!" Big tears trailed down her cheeks, her eyes wide and imploring. I tried to appear as meek and pitiful as possible, impressed by her showmanship.
Despite this, the guard still looked hesitant and Honey's cries grew more intense. "What if she gets sick and dies?"
"Fine, fine," he grumbled, coming towards us. I didn't have to pretend to shake as he lifted me up surprisingly carefully and guided me towards the bed. As soon as I reached it, I grabbed a pillow, then his gun, yelling out, "Behind me, Honey!"
She dove for my legs. In two swift moves I had his gun pointed at him, the pillow muffling the sound.
I didn't hesitate to shoot him. Then I aimed for the camera on the opposite wall. It exploded with my second shot.
"Don't look down," I pulled Honey to her feet. She was squeezing her eyes shut. "We need to hurry," I muttered.
I guided her towards the other side of the bed. Placing my hands under her arms, I heaved her into the air. "Do you think you can get into that air vent?"