Talk About the Direct Approach...

Chapter Forty-Two: A brain-phone is the best phone

*Macy's POV*

There was a lot going on in my mind as I slept. Most of it was me recounting my awesomeness, some of it was just downright depressing, and there was a five minute visual of me chasing some walking cheeseburgers, but I'm sure that's entirely due to my strong desire for something greasy and unhealthy right now.

And of course, I had to wake up and come back to reality. I would have loved to pretend to be asleep, or maybe dead, so they'd just carry my body out, but someone kept shaking me, so I was forced to open my eyes.

I squint against the sunlight filtering in, slapping the air wildly in hopes of hitting whoever is shaking me.

Neil grabs my wrists to stop me. "Don't kill me," he says, mock fear in his voice.

"Shut up and leave me alone," I groan, shoving my face into the pillow.

"Fine. I guess I'll just eat your breakfast," he says, releasing my wrists.

I lift my head slightly, squinting over at him through my messy hair that's covering my face. "I'll castrate you if you lay a grubby finger on my food."

"Go ahead," he says, and I can just hear the taunting smirk on his face. Of course, he'd probably enjoy that.

I sit up, flipping my hair back so I don't look like the Grudge, and attempting to tame it by running my fingers through it. I'm almost positive my hair attempts to eat my fingers.

"Gimme," I order, pointing to my tray. I look at my wrists, smiling in satisfaction. They're slightly red, like I had been burned, but I'm just glad the silver cuffs are gone.

"Here you are princess," he says sarcastically as he passes me my tray. I frown at him, feeling the slightest unpleasant pang in my heart.

"Don't call me that." He raises an eyebrow in question, but I don't elaborate and instead turn my attention to the tray. My nose scrunches in distaste at the gray substance. I don't even know what it is, maybe grits or something, and I can't even bring myself to try it, despite my growling stomach. With a sigh, I hold the tray out to Neil. "Eat it."

Again, he looks at me questioningly. I force him to take it without giving him any reasoning. Besides, I'm sure he could use it more than I could. Grown man and whatnot, plus I'll just eat lunch instead.

"If you insist," he finally says, almost like he's reluctant, but a spoonful is already on its way to his mouth.

I lean against the wall, aware that Neil put me on his bunk, so I need to watch my head. "What exactly happened last night?" I question. "I remember kind of losing it and getting the cuffs off, but I don't really remember how I did it or what happened after."

Neil chuckles, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. "You went batshit crazy and pounded the cuffs against the wall until they broke off. And then you passed out."

"Oh." I rub my wrists, looking around for the cuffs. "Where are they now?"

He points his spoon at the pillow. "Under there. Had to hide them in case someone came down here. You weren't exactly quiet about it."

I lift up the pillow. The cuffs are a little banged up and scratched. I smile at that.

We sit in silence as Neil finishes off his meal. I can hear some snoring, especially from directly across us in Alan's cell. I wonder what he thought about the whole thing.

I'm still surprised with myself. I couldn't even get myself worked up enough to open a jar of peanut butter, let alone break out of silver cuffs. I guess I can understand how uncontrollably angry Cayton got at times, it wasn't really his fault.