Demitria Lunetta - In the End

My face burns at how powerless I feel as the Warden steers me back toward the cell. Everyone gets out of our way and most call greetings to the Warden, who smiles and tips his hat.

When we reach Jacks’s cell, the Warden gives me a little shove inside. “You missing something?”

Jacks looks up from his sketch and sees us. He jumps to his feet, concerned.

“No, sir. Amy just went to see about getting a bike.”

The Warden beckons Jacks closer. When Jacks is near, he says in a low tone, “You can’t let your woman just wander off like that. She could get hurt. You have to take care of your property. I thought you’d be more careful, especially after what happened to Layla.”

Jacks’s face darkens, and he looks as if he’s about to defend himself, but instead he drops his head. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles.

I glare at the Warden, but he keeps speaking to Jacks in the same disappointed tone.

“It broke my heart when you let that little girl die, and it just about killed your father.”

Jacks’s jaw tightens. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

He gives Jacks one last stern look, then turns to me. “All right now, see ya, little lady.” He smiles at me as if I’m a child, and walks away.

“What the hell happened to Brenna?” he asks, deflated.

“She had to go,” I snap. “She’s not my keeper. And why the hell did your uncle treat me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your dog. Does he really believe in this ‘women as property’ crap?”

“Well, obviously,” Jacks grumbles.

“That’s sick. And you just let him talk to you like what happened to your sister was your fault.”

“I can’t help who my uncle is,” Jacks says. “Look, he’s an asshole. He’s always been a self-centered prick. What happened to Layla can’t possibly be his fault, even though he’s the big man here and should have protected her. So he blames me. He’s just scared, like everyone else.”

“Well, why don’t you say something to put a stop to it?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Jacks says, seething. “My uncle is in charge. He’s like a king. If you don’t do what he says, you aren’t welcome in Fort Black.”

“And you’re too scared to risk that,” I say bitterly.

Jacks stares at me; then, in a fit of frustration, he kicks the wall.

“I don’t have any power, Amy,” he says. “You think I like how things work here? I don’t. But I don’t want to die.”

“Neither do I,” I say. “But—”

“But what? I get that you fought for what was right at that other place you were at. And what happened? You ended up out there.” He gestures out the window. “And what’s more, you’re stuck here, while your sister might be dead.”

“She’s not dead!” I scream.

“Face facts. She probably is. It happens to everyone we love. That’s the world now.” His voice lacks any emotion.

“Screw you, Jacks!” Without a pause, I tear the door open and sprint down the corridor. My footsteps rattle the iron walkway in loud, bullet-like bursts.

I can hear him running after me.

“Amy!” he yells.

“What? Afraid your uncle will find out I’m not under your control ?”

There’s a whoop from the cells below me, followed by catcalls. People are starting to gather in their doorways to watch.

“Get your woman, Jacks!” someone yells.

“Bitch can run!” another screams.

I fly down a stairwell, then another. I don’t even know where I’m going—I just need to run. Now I’m out of B and have shot into Cellblock A. Which is when two pairs of hands grab my arms. I look to either side of me and see shaved heads. It’s the fighters.

“Hey, I remember you,” one says, shoving me up against a wall. I deliver a swift kick to one of their shins, but the other one’s got me pinned.

“Guys,” the first one says, backing away. “That’s Jacks’s girl. You don’t want to mess with that.”

I can see the hesitation on their faces. I’m about to make another escape attempt when suddenly, from behind me, I hear a voice. Brenna.

“Leave her alone, you bastards.”

The men look up. When the one to my left loosens his grip, I wrench free, then throw my elbow in the other man’s ribs.

“We was just having a little fun,” the larger of the two says, snarling. “We was just going to scare her a little . . . you ugly cow,” he adds under his breath.

Brenna just laughs. “You think I care what you say, you stupid monkey? You’re not worth my time, not now and not the ten seconds it takes me to kick your ass in the Arena.” She glares at them until they back off.

“Come on,” she says to me. I move away until we’re safely around the corner. She puts her hand in mine.

“You’re fine,” Brenna says. “You would’ve had ’em.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, I heard you and Jacks fighting. The whole damned place did. Not that smart, you know.”

“What?” I look at her, hurt. “I thought you of all people would understand that I hate the concept of being ‘owned.’”

“Yeah, I get it. You’re not really into playing the game. I’m not either.” She pauses. “But if you wanted to win, you could.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard you’re looking for some dude. Pam told me. Someone we’ve never heard of. Well, you ain’t gonna find him by being a pain in the ass to the only guy here who really cares about you.”

“But Jacks—”

“Has a crush on you? Who cares? We all do what we can to get by in this place.”

I can feel my face go crimson.

“Anyway. Let’s go back. I gotta rest up for the fight tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Brenna,” I say as we approach Jacks’s cell. “Seriously. For everything.”

“Forget it,” she says before we’re within earshot of Jacks. “Just remember: If you’re gonna break his heart, make sure it’s worth it.”

“I don’t plan on doing that,” I say carefully. “But I do have to see this through. I won’t be here forever, Brenna.”

“All the more reason to play the game and be careful,” she tells me. “It won’t help anyone if you’re dead.”

I nod and make my way back to the cell. Jacks looks up, and I offer a small smile. “Sorry I ran off. Again.”

He smiles back. “Sorry I said those things. It’s hard to have hope, especially in here.”

“My sister is alive. And I’m going to save her,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.

His eyes meet mine, and he nods. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but it’s a start.

After two days filled with long stretches of silences and awkwardly trying to avoid each other in our tiny cell, I decide to win Jacks over by requesting a tattoo of my own. I pick one of his sketches: a small golden sun, round and bright. I like the idea of having the sun with me always, even in the dark. Next to it is a small moon with BABY written in silver flowing letters. Baby will like it when she sees it.

He looks up from the sketch he’s working on and catches me staring at it again in the mirror, my synth-suit pulled off my shoulder, my head craning to look.

He grins. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Fine.” I shrug. I don’t want him to think that I’m weak, but it still hurts. “Maybe next time I’ll get a full sleeve, like yours.”

He holds out his arms to look at them, flexing them slightly. “I don’t know, Amy, that’s pretty hardcore. You sure you don’t want a cute little butterfly on your ankle or something first?”

I shake my head. Maybe at one point, if the world had stayed normal. If I had gone to college and gotten a tattoo to be a rebel. “Do I look like a butterfly kind of girl? I want a unicorn . . . or maybe those Chinese letters that people think mean serenity or peace , but really say sweet and sour chicken. ”