This chapter should answer some questions :)

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Sara's POV

I can feel her hands all over me.

I twist pitifully, trying to avoid her menacing gaze; but everywhere I look I see hollow, callous eyes staring back at me from blank faces.

I can't breathe. My whole body aches where her boot-clad feet have landed blow after blow until I stop fighting and lay still for her.

Weakened, injured and unable to physically defend myself any longer, I curl up as best I can and try to detach my mind from my body.

But I can still hear their laughter and I can feel her rough hands grazing my delicate skin.

I scrunch my eyes tightly closed, willing the floor to swallow me whole. I don't know what I've done to deserve this life.

I gradually become aware of light creeping back into my view and the echoing sounds deplete until there is silence.

She has released me at last. I remain curled in a tight ball, my head buried in my arms.

I feel cold.

Suddenly another pair of hands appears on my body, but this time the touch is gentle and soothing. A weight appears on my side and tender fingers submerge themselves in my hair. And the only sound I hear now is the comforting words she is whispering to me.

I gasp, sitting up so suddenly that stars flash before my eyes.

"It's okay." I hear her telling my through the fog in my mind. "You're okay now."

I turn, blinking away my tears. It's dark and Catherine is kneeling beside my bed, one hand supporting my back while the other rests on my leg.

She smiles knowingly, concern and sadness filling her eyes.

X x x

Cath's POV

It doesn't take a genius to guess what her nightmare is about this time, as she scratches frantically at her own face in an attempt to fight off her invisible attacker.

The obstinate part of me wants to say 'I told you so', for this is exactly the reason I cannot leave her alone in here. But I know that this is probably not what she needs to hear right now, so instead I slide under the covers with her and pull her against me.

"You're going to be okay, babe." I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Cat." She mumbles sleepily, already being reclaimed by morpheus.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." She sniffles. "I really am grateful for what you did."

"I know." I smile. "I love you."

"I know." She echoes quietly. "I love you, too."

It strikes me that this is probably the first time she has ever said these words to anyone. I can't help but wonder whether she has been contemplating how to say it since I first uttered the words to her this morning. I tug her closer, nestling against her warm body.

"But you're still an idiot."

Her stern addition makes me chuckle softly and I drop an affectionate kiss into her hair.

"Duly noted." I hum. "Now, go back to sleep."

She's probably right.

What I did was by far the stupidest thing I've ever done and if the other inmates realise it was me then they could easily kill me for stealing an afternoon of their already-limited freedom. I am, after all, hugely outnumbered.

But at the time I didn't think I had any other option; and if I'm honest, I still believe that now.

X x x

My heart is pounding in my chest; I'm so sure I'm going to get caught.

I edge my way through the gate, checking all around to make sure I am definitely alone before creeping across the yard.

I may have been considered something of a delinquent at school, but I have always been sharp and it hadn't taken me long in here to work out where they keep the keys to the minibus.

Only certain inmates are supposed to have access to the garage, specifically the ones enlisted to clean the bus. But as it happens one of these girls owed me a long-forgotten favour and it hadn't taken much persuasion to get inside. I didn't tell her why I wanted access and she hadn't asked. That's what I like about her.

From there, it was a piece of cake to get the keys and climb into the bus.

The engine takes a minute to tick over before firing up with an overworked growl.

I release the handbrake and slam it into reverse, swallowing hard as it starts to roll slowly backwards.

My stomach knots and I begin to get the sinking feeling that this was a bad idea, but it's too late to go back now.

I have barely moved six feet backwards before the yard is filled with guards. My heart rate increases, my blood boiling in my veins as the enormity of what I'm about to do hits me.

One of them locks eyes with me and I instantly recognise him as the one who recently helped me to get Sara's notebook. He looks shocked, possibly even disappointed, as he gestures for me to stop.

I could stop. I could get out now and hope that they are lenient on me – we could call it a momentary lapse in judgement.
But then I remember that that's not what I want. I want to be punished. I need it to be enough to get my parole revoked, but not too much to get my sentence increased.

Taking a deep breath, and sending what I hope is an apologetic look to the kind-hearted guard, I slam my foot on the gas and drive the bus back into the garage wall.

I jolt in my seat, bracing myself against the dashboard as a loud crunch ricochets through the vehicle. Slightly dazed, I clamber down the steps and stumble along the edge of the bus. There doesn't appear to be too much damage, although there is an impressive dent in the garage wall.

Several pairs of rough hands grab me, and my wrists – painful from the force of the crash – are forced behind my back into handcuffs.

I wince, barely hearing a word of what is being shouted at me as I am frogmarched through the yard towards the forbidding building.

I cast a glance back over my shoulder. From here, I can see more damage to both the bus and the wall. It looks expensive.

Certainly enough to justify securing my future in this hell for the forseeable future.

X x x

I release a sigh, tipping my head back into the pillow. I still can't believe that I actually went through with it. I nearly bottled it so many times, but each time I remembered Harper's words and my determination increased tenfold.

"What are you thinking?" A curious voice inquires softly. I look down, quirking an eyebrow at her. I didn't even realise that she was awake.

"I'm trying to work out what it is about you that makes me do stupid things." I reply honestly, repositioning her in the crook of my elbow so I can stroke her hair.

She smiles, burying her face against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles unapologetically.

"No you're not." I breathe, sliding a hand beneath her shirt to caress her back. There's no accusation in my voice, why should there be? It's not her fault that she drives me to insanity. Although I'm sure a small part of her enjoys watching me get so worked up. She seems to take great pleasure in frustrating me, only to dissipate my pent-up anger with a single smile.

I keep telling myself that as soon as I work out how she got under my skin without me noticing, I'll work out a way to deal with it.