She's A Killer

2: Fresh Meat

Fresh Meat

Scowling at Mason through the bars, I cross my arms. He stands there, holding my gaze. The atmosphere between us could be cut with a knife. I spit at him, and he tuts. The rest of the men have left, and once again it’s just Mason and I.

“You’re such a lady” He tells me sarcastically as he moves away from the puddle of saliva on the floor. I shoot daggers at him with my eyes.

 Inside the prison cell, there is an actual toilet, a sink and a simple looking bed with white bedding folded neatly on top. Also on the bed are some simple clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. I look down at my own clothing, and under the bright lights of the prison I see how filthy I look.

Every garment I’m wearing is ripped and covered in blood, from both the Zed heads and my own body. The blood from my body isn’t new, but that’s because I can’t remember the last time I washed my clothes, or had new clothes.

Life’s hard when you’re not inside some cushy little town like Mason.

“Those clothes are for you, put them on if you’d like” Mason tells me, and for a second I’m about to tell him where to stick it.

But then I realise I’m not going anywhere soon, and might as well make myself comfortable. I walk over to the sink, and to my surprise, when I turn the taps water comes out.

“You have running water, how nice” I mutter sarcastically, and Mason sighs.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing. It’s nice to have little luxuries” Mason replies, and I shake my head at him. I cup my hands and place them under the taps, then splash the cold water into my face. I clean my face, and run my hands under the taps again to make sure they’re clean.

I wander back over to the bed, trying to ignore Mason’s eyes on me. I pick up the clothes, and stroke the clean fabric, not quite believing they’re real.  There’s a plain white t-shirt that I know will be far too big for me, and there is a pair of military trousers similar to Mason. There must be some kind of trick behind them.

“Honestly, put them on, they’re not going to kill you” Mason groans, and I turn around to look at him. Expectantly, he raises his eyebrows at me, and I raise my own back at him.

“Turn around then” I tell him, and he looks at me.

“Are you kidding?” He asks me, and I roll my eyes.

“You’re all the way over there, and I have no weapons, since I dropped the baseball bat and you took my rucksack” I pout, and after a minute of staring and silent competition, Mason holds his hands up, turning his back to me slowly.

“Thank you” I mutter dryly, and begin to undress. I hide all the weapons in my other clothes, preparing to put them in my new clothes. Because Mason has his back to me, he won’t be able to see the weapons I’ve concealed.

They haven’t provided any underwear, so I keep on what I’ve got. I look down at myself, and I see my bones poking out. My hip bones and rib bones are extremely prominent, and I realise how much weight I’ve lost. There’s no wonder these people think I need help.

“Besides” I begin, pulling the t-shirt from the bed over my head. “Aren’t you a bit old to be staring at young girls?”

“How are you young? You’re old enough to be pointing a gun at my head! How old are you anyway?” Mason asks me and I pull my trousers on. They’re miles too big around the waist, and I’m grateful the t-shirt is too big too; otherwise all my underwear and the knife I keep in a holder around my leg would be exposed.