The guard stepped up beside me, towering over me the same way he’d towered over Chelsea. “Would you prefer we not arrest her?”
“I’d prefer you have a little decency and realize a candy bar is just a candy bar,” I shot at him. “You heard her. A guard gave it to her. For all we know, it could’ve been you, for the sole reason of coming in here to arrest her for your barbaric entertainment tomorrow night.”
He narrowed his eyes and bent down until our noses were nearly touching. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Hart. I’m gonna do you a favor. Just for you, just because you think it’s unfair, I’m not going to arrest her.”
I exhaled, my tense muscles relaxing slightly. “Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not at all,” he said, and he straightened. “Take her to the street.”
Several girls gasped, and the weedy guard shoved Chelsea down the aisle and out the door. The blast of cold air hit my face, and forgetting the other guards still searching through the bunks, I hurried after them.
The weedy guard forced Chelsea to her knees under a pool of yellow light in the middle of the street. She trembled, and a choked sob escaped her. “Please,” she begged. “Please, I’ll tell you where I got it—I’ll tell you anything you want. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t—”
“Shut up,” said the weedy guard, and he kicked her in the spine. I started forward, but someone grabbed my collar and held me back.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Scotia, her voice dripping with venom. The burly guard chuckled as he stepped around me.
“You should listen to Scotia,” he said, giving her an enormous wink. “She knows how to handle herself, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart, Williams,” she said coolly, but he merely chuckled and descended the steps into the snowy street.
“Someday I’ll change your mind. But this one here...” He drew his weapon and looked straight at me. “Maybe this will help you change yours, Miss Hart.”
Before I could move, before I could think, before I could react at all, he pressed the barrel of his rifle to the back of Chelsea’s head. A gunshot cut off her strangled scream, leaving dead silence in its wake.
Her blood stained the snow red, mixing with the yellow light and appearing an eerie shade of brown. With cold efficiency, the weedy guard dragged her body to the side of the street and spoke into a device clipped to his shoulder. “Cleanup requested, Street 8, Block B.”
“All clear, sir,” called another guard from inside the bunkhouse, as if nothing had happened. Their boots squeaked against the wet floor as they headed out the door, each one brushing me as they passed.
“Get inside,” hissed Scotia in my ear, and she tugged me backward and into the building. I was too numb to fight. I was too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the bunk bed that, seconds before, had belonged to a girl who was now dead.
Every single pair of eyes turned toward me. Some were red; some stared at me accusingly. But for the first time, none of them looked away.
“At least in the cage, she would’ve stood a chance,” said Scotia, pushing me back to my bed. I sat down heavily, and the springs squeaked from my weight. “Get it now?”
I nodded wordlessly, and she turned her glare from me to the others.
“Chelsea was a good person,” she said. “You’re all good people. I don’t care if Mercer himself hands you contraband—do not give them an excuse to kill you, because I promise you they will take it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed back behind her curtain. A few quiet sobs echoed from the other end of the bunk, and the low murmur of voices filled my ears as I curled up on my bed, my back to them as I stared at the entrance to Scotia’s room.
It was the only place the guards had left untouched.
Scotia was the snitch.
By the time lights out came two hours later, I was certain. She had turned Maya and her friends in without a second thought; and after smelling the chocolate on her breath, I would have bet every heartbeat I had left that she was the one who had tipped off Williams about Chelsea’s candy bar and told him to search the bunk.
While the others fell asleep, their whispered conversations fading one by one until the entire room was filled with the sound of two dozen girls breathing evenly, I continued to watch the curtain separating Scotia from the rest of us. It might as well have been a steel door, the way the other girls treated it, but all I could think about was what she’d done to deserve that privacy in the first place.
Snitch out her bunk mates, clearly. Keep us all so afraid of her that no one stepped a toe out of line in fear of being sent to the cage. But why the others didn’t gang up on her and take care of the problem, I didn’t know.
Even if I’d wanted to sleep, I couldn’t. My mind flipped between the horrors of the past twenty-four hours like some nightmarish slide show. Six people—that was how many had died in front of me since Knox had betrayed me. Benjy. Maya. Poppy. Darcy. Chelsea. And another whose name I’d never known.
Guilt and despair burrowed inside me, nestling up against the need for vengeance that fueled every breath I took. The true horror of Elsewhere wasn’t the hunt Daxton enjoyed so much; it lay in the twisted hope Mercer and the others offered the prisoners. Betray your friends, betray the only family you have in this place, and we might let you become one of us. We might let you pull the trigger next time.
“I’d prefer you have a little decency and realize a candy bar is just a candy bar,” I shot at him. “You heard her. A guard gave it to her. For all we know, it could’ve been you, for the sole reason of coming in here to arrest her for your barbaric entertainment tomorrow night.”
He narrowed his eyes and bent down until our noses were nearly touching. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Hart. I’m gonna do you a favor. Just for you, just because you think it’s unfair, I’m not going to arrest her.”
I exhaled, my tense muscles relaxing slightly. “Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not at all,” he said, and he straightened. “Take her to the street.”
Several girls gasped, and the weedy guard shoved Chelsea down the aisle and out the door. The blast of cold air hit my face, and forgetting the other guards still searching through the bunks, I hurried after them.
The weedy guard forced Chelsea to her knees under a pool of yellow light in the middle of the street. She trembled, and a choked sob escaped her. “Please,” she begged. “Please, I’ll tell you where I got it—I’ll tell you anything you want. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t—”
“Shut up,” said the weedy guard, and he kicked her in the spine. I started forward, but someone grabbed my collar and held me back.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Scotia, her voice dripping with venom. The burly guard chuckled as he stepped around me.
“You should listen to Scotia,” he said, giving her an enormous wink. “She knows how to handle herself, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart, Williams,” she said coolly, but he merely chuckled and descended the steps into the snowy street.
“Someday I’ll change your mind. But this one here...” He drew his weapon and looked straight at me. “Maybe this will help you change yours, Miss Hart.”
Before I could move, before I could think, before I could react at all, he pressed the barrel of his rifle to the back of Chelsea’s head. A gunshot cut off her strangled scream, leaving dead silence in its wake.
Her blood stained the snow red, mixing with the yellow light and appearing an eerie shade of brown. With cold efficiency, the weedy guard dragged her body to the side of the street and spoke into a device clipped to his shoulder. “Cleanup requested, Street 8, Block B.”
“All clear, sir,” called another guard from inside the bunkhouse, as if nothing had happened. Their boots squeaked against the wet floor as they headed out the door, each one brushing me as they passed.
“Get inside,” hissed Scotia in my ear, and she tugged me backward and into the building. I was too numb to fight. I was too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the bunk bed that, seconds before, had belonged to a girl who was now dead.
Every single pair of eyes turned toward me. Some were red; some stared at me accusingly. But for the first time, none of them looked away.
“At least in the cage, she would’ve stood a chance,” said Scotia, pushing me back to my bed. I sat down heavily, and the springs squeaked from my weight. “Get it now?”
I nodded wordlessly, and she turned her glare from me to the others.
“Chelsea was a good person,” she said. “You’re all good people. I don’t care if Mercer himself hands you contraband—do not give them an excuse to kill you, because I promise you they will take it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed back behind her curtain. A few quiet sobs echoed from the other end of the bunk, and the low murmur of voices filled my ears as I curled up on my bed, my back to them as I stared at the entrance to Scotia’s room.
It was the only place the guards had left untouched.
Scotia was the snitch.
By the time lights out came two hours later, I was certain. She had turned Maya and her friends in without a second thought; and after smelling the chocolate on her breath, I would have bet every heartbeat I had left that she was the one who had tipped off Williams about Chelsea’s candy bar and told him to search the bunk.
While the others fell asleep, their whispered conversations fading one by one until the entire room was filled with the sound of two dozen girls breathing evenly, I continued to watch the curtain separating Scotia from the rest of us. It might as well have been a steel door, the way the other girls treated it, but all I could think about was what she’d done to deserve that privacy in the first place.
Snitch out her bunk mates, clearly. Keep us all so afraid of her that no one stepped a toe out of line in fear of being sent to the cage. But why the others didn’t gang up on her and take care of the problem, I didn’t know.
Even if I’d wanted to sleep, I couldn’t. My mind flipped between the horrors of the past twenty-four hours like some nightmarish slide show. Six people—that was how many had died in front of me since Knox had betrayed me. Benjy. Maya. Poppy. Darcy. Chelsea. And another whose name I’d never known.
Guilt and despair burrowed inside me, nestling up against the need for vengeance that fueled every breath I took. The true horror of Elsewhere wasn’t the hunt Daxton enjoyed so much; it lay in the twisted hope Mercer and the others offered the prisoners. Betray your friends, betray the only family you have in this place, and we might let you become one of us. We might let you pull the trigger next time.
