on to anything that still gave her hope but why did she have to keep thinking of Jack? Election Night. That had been more than just fucking. But almost everything they did had been more than sex.
None of that mattered. Not now. Now all she did was look back, because she had nothing ahead of her.
Ellie had begged to stay in Caroline’s cell when they came in to take her away. Caroline didn’t have the heart to speak. Her words would have done no good, and Ellen’s pleas only seemed to spur the guards on, and they laughed their way through the door. It took Caroline a long time to plunge into sleep after that, as it always did. She never knew how long it lasted. Half the time she’d wake up crying after remembering something particularly emotional. Especially if it involved her children. She hated dreaming about Mo and Feef.
Whatever sleep she had, it was never enough, her mind suffering from permanent fatigue. The combination of very little water, no food, and no proper rest had rendered her incapable of functioning properly.
Caroline heard voices in the hallway. She assumed it was morning but since she didn’t really have a clock nearby she could have been wrong. She steeled herself for another day.
I am strong. I am invincible. I am –
The lights flickered on. She ran a hand over her head. Her hair was such a mess that it wasn’t even worth trying to get any of her working fingers through it. She composed herself before the guards came in, struggling to sit up on the bed.
All the feminist anthems in the world aren’t gonna get you through this shit, Gerard. Think of something useful.
Fischer shoved through the door, smiling at her. “Just wanted to make sure you were awake.” He whirled around and locked her in again.
What the hell was that for?
She heard another clicking noise, the sound of another cell door opening. Then a familiar female voice. Ellen. In the cell next to Caroline.
Why didn’t I know that?
Ellen’s cell door slammed, a jarring noise that made Caroline wince. There were numerous guards in there with her. A number of voices. Was Fischer one of them? Powell? The other guards who never spoke to her but sneered when they saw her in the hallway or peeked through the door?
Then she heard the thumping, followed by Ellen screaming. Incoherent, rambling cries. She couldn’t make out the words. Were they questioning her? Seemed peculiar that they hadn’t taken her to an interrogation room. But maybe they’d dispensed with any pretense when it came to their methods.
Be quiet, Ellie. Calm down.
She pressed her hand to the wall. The pain was a secondary concern. She knew damn well Ellen couldn’t feel her presence, but that didn’t stop her from reaching out. Caroline couldn’t understand what the guards were saying, but she knew the tone. She knew their routine. Ellen hadn’t been there long, and she was vulnerable in ways that Caroline wasn’t. Caroline knew what they were telling her…threatening her, her family, her friends. Her life.
Don’t give them what they want. Don’t give in.
“Ellie, please,” she whispered, resting her forehead against the concrete.
The guards’ voices were coarse, caustic, and perhaps most disturbingly, excited. She knew something would have to give soon. Maybe they’d rough her up a little and be done. Try again. Come back later for what they wanted. That was their routine, right? But she felt the distress in Ellen’s voice. The terror. The tears. She could recognize it all, even muffled by the wall. It all happened so quickly that it was over before it began.
She heard the gunshot. Ellen was silent.
Caroline was not.
* * * * *
She screamed for hours, it seemed. Her voice was almost gone. She wailed long after Ellen’s cell door opened and slammed again, after the guards laughed their way down the hall, after hearing the scraping noise that sounded like they were hauling something away.
Or someone.
As if all her yelling would bring Ellen back. None of Caroline’s pounding on the wall, shouting at the top of her lungs, or bawling into her shirt would help her block out what had happened.
Murdock smiled when he came into Caroline’s cell later that day. “My deepest apologies,” he said. “Senator Goldman won’t be joining you again. She sends her regrets.”
“You’re an asshole,” Caroline said.
“Such cultured phrasing. I expected more. I gave you so much time to think of something clever, and that’s the best you can do?”
“Give