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Chapter 32 – Package

Sara had promised herself she was going to be on her best behaviour but this infant was threatening that.

“The girls are saying that you killed someone,” Alice sat on her bed, twirling a dreadlock around her finger, “They say that you’re a serial killer.”

Sara took a deep breath as she entwined her fingers behind her head and continued with her sit-ups.

Don’t get drawn in, Sara told herself.

It had barely been three nights since they were paired together but it felt like eternity.

“The girls say that you stabbed that guard because she found out about your drug line and . . .”

Sara clenched her jaw in anger. The way Alice called the other inmates ‘the girls’ rubbed Sara the wrong way.

Alice was acting as if they were one big happy family and this was simply one long extended sleepover.

It made Sara angry to think someone could be so naïve after everything she had been through.

But then Alice said the one wrong word, “I heard that your old roomie, Judy, was-”

Pausing mid-sit-up with her chest pressed around her knees, Sara turned her head slowly and glared at Alice.

“I will punch you.” Sara breathed heavily, “I will punch you in the liver if you don’t shut up.”

After a few moments of silence, Sara returned to her exercise.

Sara thought it had worked and Alice would stay quiet but it was barely a few seconds later when she started up again.

“Do they lock us in here all day then? How long are we supposed to be here? When can we eat?”

The questions were never ending and Sara could barely open her mouth to answer one before another was being sprouted forth.

So, leaving Alice, Sara returned to her bed and slipped the pillow around her head, hoping to drown her out.


* * *

Driving off the interstate, Sara pulled into a diner; she got the feeling that they were going to need all the strength they could muster.

Slipping into a booth in the corner, Sara felt their knees brush under the table and memories of that morning flooded her mind.

Stop it!

They needed to focus on the plan. Lifting her head, Sara clocked the time. 12.37pm.

Carlisle’s voice rang in her head; they needed to be leaving New York by 5pm that evening.

But how long would it take to drive another thirty minutes, pick up a package and leave?

They should be heading home with enough time left but something told Sara that nothing was going to go to plan today.

She didn’t know what it was, a sixth intuition? She didn’t care but something told her that something was wrong.

A pleasant blonde haired waitress took their order and Sara found herself imagining the girl’s life.

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