Page 135 of Finish Line

“And you believe her?” I ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she says. “In the years she’s lived here, no complaints have been logged. You show up, and her nose is broken.”

“This is unbelievable.” I shake my head. “Only her nose is broken, while I’m black and blue, and you think I attacked her? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not my fault you attacked me, and I don’t know how to fight. It was awful, Ms. Santos,” she cries. “I’m not a fighter, but she came at me and wouldn’t stop.”

Ms. Santos struts over to Julia, picking up her hand and patting it. “I know, dear.”

I roll my eyes. How does that make any sense? Why am I covered in bruises if she doesn’t know how to fight?

I’m about to say something, but Ms. Santos returns to her desk and hits a button.

“Ms. Winters, you’ll spend the next few days in the cell,” she says. Her door opens, and a huge guard comes in. “Take Ms. Winters to the cell.”

What? What the hell is the cell?

“I didn’t do anything. I defended myself,” I say as the guard takes my arm and half-drags me out the door.

Ms. Santos raises her chin, ignoring what I’m saying.

The guards shove me into an elevator and take me to the basement. It’s not much better than the one Roger kept me in. Along the wall are actual cells.

He throws me in one of them and locks the cell behind me. “Enjoy your stay.”

The guard laughs as he turns and leaves the basement.

I’m alone down here. I look around my cell, and stains cover a thin mattress cot. Who knows what else is on it? I don’t have sheets or a blanket to cover myself with. This is the opposite of what is upstairs.

The cell is small, and the cot barely fits. I pace the cell, measuring it with my steps—five steps wide by three, maybe three and a half deep.

I pace as much as I can in the tiny space until my side starts killing me.

I sit on the cot and curl into the corner against the cinderblock wall and the cell bars beside me. I try not to think of the basement from hell, but it’s not working. I keep going back to that dark place in my mind, remembering Evan’s hands on my body.

My heart races, and my breathing grows shallow.

You’re safe, I repeat, trying to calm myself down.

I’ve come so far and don’t want to return to that madness.

A door opens and closes, but nothing else.

I squint my eyes to help me see, but it’s too dark.

Light footsteps sound, and the person moves closer to my cell. “Shelby, are you down here?”

“Laurie?” I gasp.

She moves closer to the cell.

“What are you doing down here?” I uncurl myself from the wall.

“I brought you some things. I’ve been down here before, so I understand the conditions.” She holds something in her hands.

I move to stand up but falter. I’ve been in that position for too long, and my legs are stiff and asleep. With a groan, I move to where she stands at the door to my cell. She hands me a sheet and a blanket.

“Thank you,” I say. “You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?”

---