Page 10 of Jackson

Mama’s eyes flash, and she frowns. “They do, and Hound is always in the yard. If he has it his way, he’ll make sure you’re out there together.”

My heart skips a beat.

I swallow. “How do I avoid him?”

“Stay near the guards. If you see him coming, do something, anything, to get yourself away from him. I don’t care if you have to throw a punch at another inmate, don’t let him near you.”

My food lodges in my throat at the thought of having to start a fight just to protect myself.

It’s sad that’s my only option.

“Keep your chin up. Mama pats my hand. “Don’t let him smell your fear.”

I’m afraid it’s too late for that.

He knows that I’m afraid of him, I always have been.

I’m doing my best not to show him, but that isn’t always easy.

I slowly eat my food, and then we head back to our cells.

I’m not looking forward to the groundwork I am set to do in a few hours because that means I’m less protected. I keep Mama’s advice in my mind and try to prepare myself as best I can.

By the time we’re all gathered for our duties, my stomach is twisting with anxiety.

I’m situated with two other girls weeding the gardens, which, thankfully, doesn’t seem to be near the men. But I did see him, and for a split second our eyes met, and he grinned. A familiar grin, one I remember so well. It made me sick to my stomach.

Right now, though, he is over digging some big holes for them to plant trees, and, for now, the guards are focusing their attention over there, no doubt because they’re using shovels.

One good hit with a shovel and I’d be out.

“Don’t want to get your hands dirty, Princess?”

The girl next to me scowls as I hesitate, my eyes swinging back and forth toward Hound’s direction. I wasn’t even paying attention to the task at hand, and clearly, she took that as me trying to get out of it. I glare at her, and she holds my eyes for long moments, challenging me to say something.

“No,” I mutter, then start weeding, shoving my gloved hands into the dirt with no hesitation.

I fucking hate being called Princess.

I weed without any issues for about an hour before a fight breaks out. It starts near where a heap of men are picking up leaves and rubbish from the yard. Fists fly, and in seconds, all the guards are rushing toward them. I watch, like everyone else, not realizing that anything is wrong until I hear a voice behind me, and a cold chill runs down my spine.

Hound is behind me, and he’s still holding the shovel which he is pressing against my legs so I know it’s there.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t find a way to get to you, did you?”

He set this up to distract the guards, of course he did.

My mind spins as I turn toward him, my fingers trembling, my palms sweating. I have seconds, if that, to make a choice that could possibly save my life.

Hound grins, slow and evil, and pulls a shiv made out of a toothbrush from his shirt. He thrusts it in my direction so quickly it takes me a moment to realize that it has torn through my skin. My mouth opens and a silent scream gets stuck in my throat as the slow, burning pain in my stomach lets me know that he has successfully stabbed me.

He's going to kill me.

He pulls the makeshift knife out, and goes to plunge it back in, and I know this is my only chance for escape.

I inhale, gasping in pain, and I scream.

I scream with everything I have inside, loud and piercing, so intense that the guards are quickly distracted from the fight and begin running toward me. I lash out, kicking Hound in the shins as hard as I can, to try and prevent him from stabbing me again. Blood is soaking my shirt, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s not happy with what I’ve just done.

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