Page 8 of Toxic
I don’t know how to handle my response or what to do with this information, so I carefully fold the drawing into a small rectangle and tuck it into my pocket. I’m not too closed off that I don’t acknowledge the rush of tenderness I felt the moment I realized he’d paid such attention to me, but that’s a dangerous emotion. So, I tuck away my emotions along with the drawing for examination when they don’t feel so terrifyingly close to thesurface.
A knock comes at the door, and I whirl around with my heart in my throat. It sinks when I realize it’s just Annie. “Got one for you!” she says, cheerfully ignorant of my innerturmoil.
“Thank you,” I say and lead the groaning inmate toabed.
The next inmate assigned to the infirmary work detail arrives shortly after that, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed when itisn’tKing.
It turns out,Vic hadn’t placed King in the infirmary to torture me. Whoever had King assigned to the infirmary was either powerful or well-connected. Vic complained about it for days afterward, and he did his best complaining with his fists. As warden of Blackthorne, he enjoyed controlling his little kingdom down to the smallest detail. When he didn’t get his way, I was the one who paid for it. This time, he was careful not to mark me up where anyone could see. But he couldn’t hurt me where it really mattered. With the constant promise of seeing King again, there was a bright flame of hope inside me that not even the pain Vic inflicted coulddiminish.
Still, each day I worked with King in the infirmary, there was a heavy silence between us. A week later, the flu swept through one of the blocks, leaving little time for me to notice the tension. After seeing the sketch and knowing how he viewed me, the urge to let him get just a little bit closer has been almost stronger than my self-preservation. It’s a constant battle to keep my mouth shut and our short chats solelyonwork.
Vic’s relentless whining, badgering, and beatings don’t help, either. I can feel myself unraveling with each passing day, and I certainly look it. The smudges under my eyes from lack of sleep make my olive skin tone appear wan and drawn under the fluorescent lighting. I haven’t been able to stomach much food in the past couple of weeks, which has made my cheekbones sharper, my eyes hollow. Hell, even my clothes hang on my frame instead of hugging my curves. I’m fading away right before my eyes, and if I don’t do something soon to save myself, there won’t beanythingleft.
“Why do you stay?” King asks meoneday.
I turn slowly, mindful of my ribs. “Stay where?” I ask, even though we both know what he’s talking about. I knew he’d been biding his time to poke into all my soft spots. I should have known he’d choose a moment when I felt mostvulnerable.
My eyes go to the door, but for the first time since the flu blew through, there are no patients. I never thought I would miss the chaos of full-grown men throwing up and complaining like children about hot and cold flashes. Now, there’s a somber, almost mellow feeling in the air. If I weren't stranded with temptation personified, I would have classified it as agoodday.
He gives me a look that says drop the bullshit, and I almost smile. Warmth unfurls inside me in places long sincefrozen.
“I’m afraid of what he could do to me if I leave.” I shouldn’t be surprised at my own admission, butIam.
He plants his legs wide and cracks his knuckles at his sides. His green eyes turn flinty and hard. I don’t know why he’s in prison, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his rap sheet contains a long list of violentcrimes.
“You should be more concerned about what he’s doing to you now.” A vein pulses at his temple, and his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth to keep from saying any more than healreadyhas.
My own back snaps straight at his accusation, warm fuzzy feelings forgotten. “I handle myselfjustfine.”
I’d forgotten how fast he moves, and a second later, he’s inches away, so close I can see the pulse beating in his throat. Instinctively, my hands fly up in front of me, and I swear he presses forward so that I’m forced to lay my palms against his chest. He’s so different from Vic it’s a shock to my system to have his body touching mine. I haven’t touched another man, despite Vic’s constant accusations of my infidelity, and to do so makes me yelp and turn my head away. I push against him, but it’s like trying to move a boulder. He doesn’tbudge.
My mouth opens to protest, and then his hands are probing along my ribs. The sharp pain from blows Vic delivered causes me to bite down on my lip. Shame weights my head and brings my gaze down tomyfeet.
Only when he drops his hands and gives me some room can I look up. He gives me a long, hard look. “That’s what Ithought.”
“Who are you to judge me?” I ask when I manage to recover my breath. Even then, my voice is little more than a wheezing gasp and lacks myusualbite.
His voice deepens, and though it seems impossible, he grows even more imposing. “I’m someone who knows better than to hit awoman.”
My suspicions about why he’s in prison solidify. This is a man who is capable of great harm. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. There is something about the blatant way he displays his dominance that’s almost comforting. He doesn’t try to hide whoheis.
When I dated Vic, he tried to be exactly what I wanted him to be. Caring, subservient, kind. I don’t have those delusions with King. What I see is exactly what I get. I don’t know if it’s a good thingornot.
I roll my eyes at the thought and gesture with the hand not wrapped around my rib cage. “Do you even know where you are? You’re in prison. That doesn’t say upstanding citizentome.”
“I’ve never claimed to be upstanding, little mouse.” Well, if that isn’t confirmation of my assessment, I don’t knowwhatis.
I glance at the window and see medical is as empty as the infirmary and scowl as I turn back to him. “Why do youevencare?”
He steps closer again, and I stiffen, unsure of how my own body will react to his proximity. “Maybe I know what you’re going through.” I find that statement unfathomable and almost scoff. Almost. There is something about the way in which he said it that gives me pause. The woman inside who’s suffered innumerable assaults recognizes akindredsoul.
I find myself taking a step forward. “What doyoumean?”
His eyes meet mine, and he lifts a shoulder. If he were a tiger, right now, he’d be wounded and irritable at showing it. I have no doubt if I tried to get close to him that he’d bat me away like an obnoxious fly. “My dad used to hit my mom and me.” He inches a bit closer. His gaze never wavers from mine. “I’m surprised more people haven’t seen it. But maybe you need to go through it to know for sure. I recognize the signs. It may have been a long time ago, but it’s something I’ll never forget. The way you try to make yourself look smaller and how you seem to walk like every bone in your body isbroken.”
I wince, staring at my hands and trying to ignore the prickling of tears and the tickle at the back of my throat. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.” I turn away and look around blindly. “Let’s, uh, we should get backtowork.”
“Don’t make the mistake my mother did,” he says as I passbyhim.