Page 27 of Glass

Trust me.

She follows me into my bedroom, her head twisting as she takes it in. “A little different to how it used to be.”

A little, but not a lot. My bed sits in the middle of the room, the four-poster covered in sheets of pale gray. The wooden floor is clearer now than when I was a teen, but stacks of sheet music still sit in piles, most of them unrecognizable under the red ink I like to scribble over them with.

“You still play?” Stasi’s voice is a whisper, and I nod as I cross to the bathroom and pull the door open.

“Sometimes.”

Although not as much as I used to.

I turn to survey her, leaning against the door as she bends down to pick up a sheet before she straightens, her eyes moving to mine. “Why am I here, Kit?”

I tilt my head to the room behind me. “I thought you might want to clean up a little.”

Stasi’s face twists in sudden hope. “You… I can use your shower?”

She sounds so shocked that I stare at her for a moment. “Did you think we’d leave you like this forever?”

And I see the answer, in the way the crease between her eyebrows dips low. In the confusion that enters her eyes.

Shedid. She expected us to leave her chained up, to restrict access to basic human needs like hygiene.

“Stasi.” My voice is rough. “Jesus. We’re not animals.”

But I suppose we haven’t given her much reason to believe we aren’t.

Not waiting for a response, I duck inside the bathroom, flicking on the hot water and testing the temperature. A stack of clean towels rests on the shelf, and I pull one off for her.

I feel her eyes on me when she appears in the doorway. “Kit...”

I point to the towels, cutting off whatever she’s about to say. My chest feels tight, and I avoid her eyes. “Use whatever you need. There’s some washing stuff in there. I’ll… get you something to wear. Take as long as you need to.”

She shifts. “Okay.”

Her voice is small. I wait until the door closes to start searching for clothes. There aren’t many options. I grab a shirt, my hands hesitating over a pair of clean boxers before I grab those too.

We’ll have to get her something. She can’t spend the next twenty years wearing my underwear.

I approach the door slowly. Twentyyears.

It finally starts to sink in.

Twenty years as her jailors.

But also… twenty years of taking care of her. That’s what we signed up to, in our anger. Because none of us, not me, not Silas, and not Rafe either, despite his bravado, are going to let anything truly bad happen to her, even as she serves out her sentence.

Although we haven’t started off well.

I raise my hand to knock, to call out, but then I pause. My ear presses against the door.

The soft, choking sobs are barely audible over the water. But I hear them, anyway. Each one feels like a sharp knife, sliding into my chest.

Slowly, I close my eyes. Turning, I sink down onto the floor, bringing up my knees and resting my elbows on them as I lean back.

Shit.

10 – Stasi