Page 196 of Bound By Fire
45
Robyn
Someone unlocks my cell door.
“Dr. Keller. You have a visitor.”
I sit up. “A visitor? Who?” Hope unfurls in me. I knock it back down the moment it rears its ugly head. If it’s him, I’m not going. Ridge can go straight to hell.
“It’s Carla Andrews. Would you like to see her?”
“Yes.” I stand.
The thin mattress squeaks under my hand. My legs are stiff from sitting all morning, and the gray overalls hang off me; the cuffs of the sleeves drop back down over my fingers, so I fold them up.
She cuffs my arms behind my back. By now, I am used to it, which I hate.
The lights in the hallway are fluorescent strips that buzz all night long. We turn left at the end of the corridor, then right, then through a door that has to be unlocked with a card.
One of the guards stops in front of a plain door with no markings on it. She holds up a finger. “Before we go in, I need to go over a few things.”
“Okay.”
“You will sit on the chair I show you. Your visitor will sit on the opposite side of the table. You will keep both of your hands on top of the table at all times, where I can see them. You will not touch your visitor in any way. No hugging, no holding hands, no leaning across the table. There will be a guard in the room at all times. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“This is a privilege. If you break any of these rules, I will end the visit immediately. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
She gives a short nod and slots the key into the door.
The room on the other side is small. There’s a metal table bolted to the floor in the middle, with a plastic chair on either side. The walls are a slightly different shade of gray from the corridor, which is the most exciting thing I have seen all day.
A male guard is standing inside, against the far wall, his arms folded in front of him.
He nods at the female who brought me, and his eyes flick to me for a second, then go back to the wall opposite him. And there, on the chair on the far side of the table, is Carla. Her head snaps up the moment I walk in.
“Oh, my god. Robyn.” She’s halfway out of her chair before the male guard clears his throat, and she sits back down. Her eyes are already shining. Mine fill up so fast I can’t see properly for a second.
“Hi,” I manage to get out.
The guard points me to the chair opposite her. “You need to sit with your hands on the table.”
I do as he says and press my hands flat against the cool metal of the table.
Carla puts her hands down on her side too, splayed wide. There’s a meter of bolted metal between us, and that’s it. I can smell her perfume from across the table. The one she always wears. Something with vanilla in it, and just that small familiar thing nearly undoes me.
“Hi, hon’.” Her voice cracks on it. A tear slides down her cheek, and she swipes it away with the back of her wrist. “I’m sorry. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this. I made it about three seconds.”
I let out a small, wet laugh. “Same.”
We just look at each other for a moment.
“You came,” I whisper.
“Of course I came. It would have been sooner, but they wouldn’t let me.” She swallows hard, her throat moving.
