in here who I could blame. “You’re the one who told me what he said. You’re the one who told me I was going to die. You can’t honestly believe I’m going to get out of here, Garin.”
I didn’t wait for him to speak. I pushed my way out of his grip and moved to the other side of the cell, squeezing into the small space between the toilet and sink. I tucked my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and rocked.
Relax, Kyle.
I had no breath. I had no feeling. I had numbness. I had an entire pit of emptiness.
And I had tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.
“I’m going to give you a minute to sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Then, I’m going to pick you up, set you over here, and force food down your throat.” He sat at the mock table, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing his shiny shoes. “The minute starts now.”
“Do you think it’s poisoned?” I asked him, holding the tray onto my lap, staring at the mountain of slop that was in the middle of it. It had cooled and flattened a bit since my pity party—or whatever Garin had called my mini breakdown.
“No.” He dipped his finger into the sauce and stuck it into his mouth. “It’s not that bad…as long as salt and metal are flavors you don’t mind.”
The tray was broken into three small compartments, similar to the ones they used in the lunchroom at school. Beard didn’t give us any silverware, so I waded through it with my fingers. The mountain was actually a pile of shredded beef with thick rectangular noodles smothered in a brown sauce. The next compartment held a roll. The outsides were hard and a little moldy. Once I broke it open, the middle was actually quite soft. Four canned peaches were in the final compartment, sitting in a juice that was much redder than normal.
“Stop playing with it, and eat.”
I pinched a few noodles between my fingers and dropped them onto my tongue. He was right; they were salty and almost metallic-tasting, like they’d been marinating in tin. As that layer of flavor dissolved, the aroma of plastic spread through my mouth.
I held my breath, trying to block it, and swallowed. “I think I’m hungrier than I realized.”
Garin looked up, licking the last bit of peach off his finger, the only surviving morsel. “I could eat five more trays’ worth.”
“I wonder how long it’s been since we’ve eaten.”
“I don’t want to know.” He kicked the tray toward the door and went to the sink to wash his hands.
I shoveled in the noodles and mixed them with mouthfuls of roll. The brown sauce dripped down my fingers. I felt it on the sides of my mouth, and beef was in my teeth. I didn’t care. My stomach was so desperate to feel full.
“Slow down, Kyle. Let your body get used to the food.”
I ignored him and sucked in a peach, mashing it between my teeth before swallowing. When I felt it slide down my throat, I tossed in another until the only thing left on my tray was the juice. It wasn’t red, like maraschino cherries. It was blood red. Way too red to drink.
I pushed the tray away and reclined against the wall, rubbing my stomach as the food moved around inside. Garin sat next to me, and I knew I needed to get up and use the sink. My fingers were sticky, and my face needed to be washed. But I was too full to move.
“How do you feel?”
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hands were resting on his thighs. They were still wet; we didn’t have a towel to dry off. I couldn’t stop staring at them.
“I ate too fast. My mouth tastes like plastic, and this wall is miserably hard.” That wasn’t all of it. I hated to admit the rest, but not mentioning it seemed like a lie. “I’m really scared.”
“Come here.”
He tapped his chest, and I fell against it, feeling his breath blow onto my neck. He was much more forgiving than the wall. Much warmer. Much more caring. But his affection didn’t hide the truth.
“Le voy a dar lo que se merece y después se muere.”
I shivered from Beard’s words as they played over and over in my head.
“You’ll get what he gives you…and then you’re going to die.”
He hadn’t said anything about Garin dying. Just me.
Actually,