Page 150 of Hell Hath No Fury
I sighed, dropping my head in my hands. I wanted to help Dr. McCormick like I had promised Mr. Malcolm, but it was hard. I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone. I didn’t want to care.
As if reading my frustration, Monica leaned in and muttered, “You know, we could just leave too … like the others. You have your license. And you’re eighteen now. Maybe we could rent a car or something.” She hesitated. “Oooo, we could go to Hollywood!”
“Hollywood is burning right now, Monica.”
She bit her lip, tapping her chin. “Oh. Well, how about Vegas?”
“Also burning.”
“New York City?”
“Same. Besides, I’m pretty sure you gotta be twenty-one to rent a car.” I nodded, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not so much from the state of our country. If I’m being honest, that excited me a little. I was always a bit of an anarchist. It was the kids in that room I worried about. The responsibility of their care what weighed so heavy on my shoulders and turned my gut like a pinwheel. Then again, I didn’t know just how bad it had gotten… it would get. I thought it was just a little civil unrest back then. At least, that’s what I was trying to make myself believe.
Monica’s lips curled up into an evil grin. “We could always steal one.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut up. We would steal it, and literally two seconds later you’d be begging me to drive to the police station to turn ourselves in.”
She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”
“There ain’t no probably about it.”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here.” It was Kammie’s shrill voice that invaded our space.
I turned back. She was standing beside my bunk, my pillow in one hand, the knife Mr. Malcolm gave me in the other.
I sprang to my feet and rushed across the room, rage like river rapids running through my veins. “Put that down now, bitch!”
Kammie dropped the pillow but continued clutching the knife. “Why don’t you make me … bitch?”
Dr. McCormick had already rushed to our position, her hands up and an exhausted look on her face. “Ladies, for the love of God, can we—” She abruptly stopped talking when she spotted the knife in Kammie’s hand, tilting her head as she got closer. When she was close enough, she took it from Kammie’s hand and held it to her face, eyeing it. “Where did you get this from?”
Kammie just looked at me. I remained silent.
“This is Malcolm’s knife,” she said. “Now tell me why you have it.”
Kammie pointed at me. “I found it hidden in her pillowcase. I was bringing it to you. I think she’s going to try to hurt me, Dr. McCormick.” Kammie feigned fear.
“Oh, fuck off!” I rolled my eyes and waved her off.
“Why do you have this knife, Ashe?”
“Mr. Malcolm gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Last night. He … he was saying goodbye and gave it to me for my birthday.”
“You’re lying,” Dr. McCormick charged.
“Fuck you!” I replied impulsively.
McCormick’s eyes went wide, her face blanching. Without saying another word, she pocketed the knife and just turned away.
“That’s my knife!” I called out to her.
Over her shoulder she said, “It’s mine until you leave this facility and until I can confirm Malcolm gave it to you.”
“Well text and ask him! I’m not lying!”
