Page 59 of Carnival
Casper stops in front of a big, metal door, then turns to look at me.
“Is this it?”
He nods. “Yes, as I said, once you’re inside, you have half an hour maximum.’’
“Are you coming in?”
“No,’’ he states, firmly. “I need to be on the lookout. Remember, you can’t leave until I open the door. You have a watch on you, so time it. The room is soundproof.’’
I frown. “That… doesn’t seem very safe.’’
Casper shrugs. “Inmates sent to solitary confinement scream a lot. They’ve made most of them soundproof.’’
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to see and hear. A knot forms in my throat, and I do my best to ignore it, or the fact that my palms have grown increasingly sweaty since we first arrived here.
“Open the door,’’ I say, voice firm, as I try my best not to look terrified.
Caspian pulls out the key that he took from the guard, and it doesn’t take him long to open it. It opens with a soft click, and he pushes the door open just enough for me to squeeze inside, without anyone else being able to see what’s in the room.
At first, I’m startled by the small size of the room. There’s barely any room for a person to turn around, let alone anything else. No chair, no bed, nothing. Just cold, damp, dirty old walls, a small lightbulb at the top, and the smallest window I’ve ever seen, allowing moonlight in.
“James,’’ I breathe out, my voice coming out in a shaky whisper.
He’s turned with his back to me, head tilted upward as he stares at the moon that’s barely visible through the small window. My breath hitches in my throat, and tears threaten to slip when I take him in.
He’s wearing red inmate clothing — they’ve labeled him as K-10 status.
James turns to look at me, painfully slowly. Eyes that used to look at me lustfully or, at other times, hide their emotions behind the stoic mask are now empty, blank — dead. The shades of brown are dull, staring at me with a void so deep that it shatters the remnants of my sanity.
It’s like he’s looking at me, but he can’t see that I’m there — he’s looking through me. It’s been five days since he got arrested and brought here, and it looks as if he’d aged fifteen years in that time span.
His usually clean-shaved face now has a slight stubble, and the man who always had such a clean appearance, who took care of himself, carefully groomed his hair, and ensured not a hair was misplaced now has deep, dark undereye bags, a weight of the situation that isn’t lost on me.
I take a reluctant step closer, glancing briefly at my small wristwatch. I have another twenty-five minutes, and I don’t want to waste them. James seems to snap himself out of the haze he’d been in since I stepped into solitary confinement, brows narrowing.
“Hellion,’’ he says, voice deep and low. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I take another step closer, and now, our chests are almost touching, the tension between us two palpable. There are too many things I want to ask, to say, and to apologize for mainly, yet they get stuck in my throat, and it takes me a moment to forcefully push the words out of me.
“I’m so sorry,’’ I whisper, looking up at him.
There it is again — the mask of stoicism I’m so used to, the indifference, and the inability to allow himself to feel anything beyond negativity.
“You’re sorry,’’ he repeats, words slow, almost as if he’s struggling to comprehend them. “You’re sorry.’’
“Yes,’’ I lick my lips. “It… it wasn’t me, I swear, James.’’
A loud, deep laugh reverberates through the tiny room, and I’m caught off guard. His teeth shine as the moonlight hits them, the lightbulb above us flickering. There’s no humor in the sound, just pure disbelief.
“Let me get this straight,’’ he chuckles. “I get knocked out and poisoned, then Hudson interrogates me, but you had nothing to do with it. Then, I get sent to protect you, and the only people who know my whereabouts are you and your family, but somehow, I get arrested in your home, and you had nothing to do with it, either? What a world of coincidences we’re living in.’’
“I know what it looks like,’’ I whisper, reaching up to cup his cheeks, but he steps back, rejecting my touch, and my entire soul starts crumbling. “I promise you, James, I didn’t know. I swear.’’
Something in him snaps. I don’t know if it’s the result of what he deems to be betrayal on my part or the fact that he’s currently in prison, with no way out, possibly getting sentenced to death, but it’s swift, and I don’t see it coming.
A loud gasp slips from me when I feel his hand wrap around my throat and he slams me against the wall behind me. He leans in, his face a mere fucking inch away from mine, his lips thinned into a line.
“Then it was your family,’’ he hisses. “And guess what, Rosalie? I’m fucking tired of you people using me for your gain.’’
