She winced and tried to pull away. “Careful, dammit.”
The guard seemed to notice the cut for the first time, which didn’t say much about his observational skills, considering she was bleeding all over the place. He quickly looked around, searching for the cause, then said something to the guards over by the woman. They looked around their area. The one who’d stowed the knife shook his head and shrugged.
Interesting, Alex thought.
Apparently this bitch had a friend.
The guard grabbed Alex again, this time by the other arm. But before he and his partner could walk her out of the circle, Frida stepped in their way. The guard shouted at her, then she spoke, just a few words that were obviously difficult for her to pronounce. One of the other guards grabbed Frida and the five of them cut through the crowd, headed toward the administration building.
Though everyone stared at them as they crossed the yard, there was one inmate in particular who caught Alex’s attention. Medium-sized and steely-eyed and wearing a hijab. Though the rest of her face was covered with a scarf, Alex was sure it was one of women who had been with El-Hashim in her cell.
And she seemed very interested in Alex.
Fifteen hundred dollars a day, Alex thought as the doctor sewed up her cut. Stonewell was getting one hell of a deal.
The infirmary examination room was broken up into several individual stations. Each of the women involved in the altercation had been taken into her own, curtains drawn for privacy.
Not complete privacy, of course. Alex was willing to bet that Frida and the other woman were enjoying the company of one of the guards, like she was. Hers had been kind enough to keep staring at her as she removed her torn and bloodied dress and given it to a nurse, who had whisked it away.
So far, a new garment had yet to materialize, and this asshole seemed to be having a helluva good time staring at Alex’s breasts. If he didn’t start showing her a little respect very soon, she might have to knock that grin off his face.
The doctor tugged on the needle and poked it into her skin again. He said something unintelligible and it took her a moment to realize he had spoken in thickly accented English, the word “pain” the only thing she understood.
He was asking if it hurt.
“Just a little,” she said, knowing that her “little” was probably a lot to some people.
He seemed to be trying to decipher her response, so she held her thumb and forefinger about a quarter inch apart.
“Little,” she said.
“Ahhh.”
He nodded, offering her a doctorly smile. After he finished closing off the wound, he examined the other scrapes and bruises she’d received, then ducked around the curtain and left without another word.
Sitting there on the cold, uncomfortable table in only a thin pair of panties, with a guard about two threads of spittle away from full-on drool, Alex felt the urge to fold her arms and cover herself, despite the wound that would make such a task difficult. But then she decided, Screw it. She wasn’t going to act like some shy schoolgirl because this asshole couldn’t take his eyes off her.
It wasn’t as if he’d ever see or get any more than this.
Not from her. Not ever.
So enjoy the show, numbnuts.
Finally, a different nurse returned and handed her a dress identical to the one she’d been wearing, only clean. The guard’s disappointment was palpable as Alex eyed him defiantly and slipped it on.
From the infirmary, she was taken to see the warden. Frida was already there, sitting in one of the chairs outside his office, and Alex was pushed onto the seat next to her.
“You all right?” Alex asked.
Frida nodded. “Thank you.”
It was the first time they’d had a chance to talk since the fight.
“So how did it start?”
“You think this was first time?”
“Your black eye from before. The same woman?”
Another nod.
“What’s her problem?”
“I do not know. A month ago she just decide to beat me. I had never even talked to her before. It was like she chooses me…” Frida demonstrated pointing at several people before stopping on one.
“Randomly,” Alex suggested. “Without any reason.”
“Yes. No reason.”
“Well, she’s not going to pick on you for a while.”
“But when she gets better? Then what?”
Alex could say that she would help, but given she wasn’t planning on being around very long, it would be a hollow promise. Instead she asked, “Why didn’t you just walk away when the guards showed up? They didn’t know you were involved.”
A half smile. “If you come by yourself, they probably not believe you. But they know Kalyna has hurt me before, so better if I tell them what happened.”
“Kalyna? That’s her name?”
Frida nodded.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Alex said.
“You help me, I help you.”
It was an admirable philosophy, but one that might ultimately cause Frida more trouble.
A few minutes later, they were ushered into the warden’s office together. In her halting, slow Ukraine, Frida gave her version of the events, and did the best she could to act as an interpreter for Alex. At the end, the warden rattled on for over a minute, then brushed his hand in the air, dismissing them.
“What was that all about?” Alex whispered when they were out of the office.
“He is not punishing you since you are so new, and…” She paused. “And you might not understanding the…rules? Rules like ‘do this,’ ‘do this,’ ‘do this,’ yes?”
“Like laws. Guidelines.”
“Yes, same. You not understanding rules of fighting.”
“I think I understand the rules of fighting just fine. I believe I just beat the crap out of your friend Kalyna.”
Frida smiled. “I mean rules that there is no fighting here.”
“Uh-huh,” Alex said. “And, tell me, does anyone ever follow that rule?”
Frida’s smile faltered. “Not really.”
“Well, knock me over with a feather.”
Alex and Frida separated after they entered Building One, Frida staying on the ground floor while Alex took the stairs up to level three. Passing through the cellblocks, she couldn’t help but notice that the other prisoners grew quiet as she walked by.
So much for keeping a low profile.
Her cellmates were all there when she walked in. Like the others, they also stopped talking and simply stared at her as she stretched out on her mattress.
“What?” she said.
In a panic, they turned away as if she wasn’t even in the room.
All right. Be that way.
She tried to make herself comfortable, turning first one way then the other. As she started to flip onto her side, something scratched her calf. She winced, climbed out, and felt around the bunk, thinking something might have gotten between the blanket and mattress.
There was nothing there.
Frowning, she lay back down. And felt it again.
This time, it was clear the scratch had come not from the bed, but her new dress. Specifically, the hem. At one spot, it was stiff.
She twisted the dress around as best she could for a better look. Surprisingly, it appeared as if the hem had been cut and resewn — hastily, by the looks of it. But that wasn’t what was stiff. The hem was about an inch wide, and within it, right where it had been redone, was what felt like a piece of paper.
Alex ran a finger across the seam and found a loose thread. It put up little resistance as she gave it a gentle tug and worked it out.
After checking her roommates and confirming they were doing everything they could not to look in her direction, she fished out the piece of paper. It had been folded twice, which accounted for why it had felt so stiff.