Chapter three

It was gone. The camera. When I woke up the next day, it wasn't in my dresser anymore. It wasn't anywhere, and I did search my entire room, the task only leaving me even more confused, as I found not only the camera was missing, but something of my own. Something important. Something personal. Very personal.

My diary was gone.

"Did you go into my room?" I asked my father when I sat down at the kitchen table. "Something's missing."

He took his gaze of the newspaper her was reading and gave me a look that highly implied he considered me to be either stupid, or just mentally challenged.

"You think I went into your room and stole something?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"No! Of course not. I just thought … maybe you–"

"What would I want to take from your room, Leah. What could I possibly need from a fourteen year old teenage girl?" He looked back down to his newspaper. "Don't be stupid."

The rest of the breakfast was silent. When he finished, he stood up from the table.

"Hurry up now," he said, folding the newspaper under his arm and grabbing his plate and mug, starting toward the kitchen. "You need to deliver the breakfast."

This time when I knocked on Kevin's cell, I waited outside instead of just popping in directly. It took a little longer than necessary for him to appear on the other side of the window, but when he did, he gave me kind smile.

"Come on in," he said and backed away from the door, as if I was going to open it.

I transported myself inside and appeared in front of him. He seemed a bit taken aback, but not a surprised as yesterday.

"That's so cool," he said, grabbing the bag I held out for him.

I forced myself not to think about how normal he seemed. Ron had been right, I realized. It was because he was so young. He seemed and acted like a normal teenager. It was hard envisioning this guy doing anything evil. Even the way he smiled at me seemed genuine.

"So what are you," he asked, peeking into his bag before closing it again, walking over to his bed and sitting down.

He looked at me. I considered if I should tell him or not. It wasn't that I didn't want him knowing about me. I didn't care if the inmates knew what or who I was. It wasn't like they could use it against me. They all knew about what'd happened with the vampire. They all knew he wouldn't save me if they threatened. I wasn't sure if Kevin knew though, but for some reason I didn't fear he'd turn on me.

"Half-Demon," I said. "Abeo."

"And that's teleportation?" he asked. "Like you just did?"

I nodded.

"Cool," he said again. "Wish I could do that. Would come in handy, you know," he said, his voice playful as he jerked his head toward the door.

"You'd still be blocked," I told him. "All inmates are blocked."

"Then why can you do it?"

"Because I'm not blocked," I said with a small laugh.

I cursed myself for sounding so casual, and immediately turned my face serious again. I wasn't allowed to make conversation with the prisoners. And I'd never wanted to before, believe me, but now, with him … I guess it's the teenager thing. I was the only one this place. I didn't have any friends my own age. Pathetic, I know, but I wasn't allowed to leave and it's not like you can truly create a great relationship on the internet. At least not according to me. I'm just not like that. I want something real. Something close, touchable.

But he's not a friend. He's an enemy of sorts.

He looked away from me and moved to rest on the bed in that way he does. I thought about leaving, continue along with the cart, but there was something I wanted to ask him, so I stayed.

"Um …" I started and he looked up at me. "Didn't you get the brief before they locked you in?"

He frowned.

"The brief?"

"Yeah, the, uh … Information. You know, the rules. It's just … You don't seem to know … I mean, you were chocked when I first came and you didn't know who I was."

He gave a soft chuckle.

"That's because I've never met you," he said, amused. "Why would I know who you are?"

"The brief," I said. "It should've explained about me. That I would bring the food, I mean. And that I'm a Half-Demon. You all get it, to understand how it is. The rules."

Kevin rested his head back on his arms and closed his eyes.

"I didn't get no brief," he said. "But I really would've appreciated one. Letting me know why I'm here, that is."

I took a step toward him.

"You know why you're here."

He opened his eyes and met my gaze, his face serious.

"No. I don't."

I could make out a hint of irritation in his voice, but very little, like he was trying to compose himself.

"You're here because you've done something wrong. That's what prisons are for."

He shot up, standing from the bed and taking a step toward me. I took a step back.

"I know what a prison is!" he snapped. "What I don't know is why I'm in one! I've done nothing wrong! I'm not a criminal! Sure, maybe I've shoplifted once or twice, but only when I really needed to. To survive!"

I gaped at him. He seemed so serious. Like he truly believed his own words.

"Well," I said, "it's not like I locked you in here. I'm the one who brings your food. You have to scream at me."

His face softened, and he backed away from me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't know that for sure. Sure, I don't believe a kid like you could kidnap me the way I was kidnapped, but with that power, you could surely sneak up on someone. For all I know you were in on it."

"Please," I scoffed. "I can barely reach though that door," I gestured towards the cell door, "how could I possibly sneak up on anyone?"

I bit my lip. That was something I didn't want the prisoners to know. The lack of my power. That was something they could mock me for. Everyone in here was a supernatural, all with their own powers. I didn't want them to consider me as weak. I just couldn't deal with that. It was enough having my own father look down on me. I didn't need there liars and murderers doing the same.

To my surprise, he didn't comment on it. Instead he sat back down on his bed and asked: "Do I get to go out? Like, play pool or walk around for a half-hour? Isn't that what prisoners do?"

"Not the E-block ones," I said. "They stay inside. In the cells."

He frowned.

"E-block?"

"Class E convicts," I explained. "E is the worst. I mean, the most guarded. Secure."

"Huh," he said. "I guess that's why it's taking a little longer then."

"What?"

He smiled at me again, playfully, and gave me a conspiratorially look.

"My great escape," he whispered. "The breaking me out."

"You can't break out of here," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Like I said before; maybe not by myself. But they'll come for me."

"No one is coming for you, Kevin. And even if they were, they couldn't even get past the barriers. No one can. My father has made–"

"Who is Kevin?"

I stopped talking and looked at him, raising my eyebrows. He's not in the head, I thought. He can't even remember his own name. That's what's wrong with him. Maybe that's why he seemed so lost here. Maybe that's why he seemed to truly believe he didn't belong. His twisted mind wouldn't let him remember what he' done, filling his head with thoughts of kidnapping and experiments.

I felt relieved. He was evil. Just not aware of it. I'd finally found an excuse to tell myself. That feeling in my gut, that feeling that told me he wasn't lying, was right! Because he wasn't lying. He thought he told the truth.

"Hello?"

I snapped out if my thoughts at his voice. He stood in front of me again, waving a hand in front of my face.

"Earth to ginger girl."

I focused my gaze on his.

"Finally. I thought you'd disappeared forever," he said. "So about this Kevin?"

I slapped his hand away, something I wasn't allowed to do. I could never touch them, my father had explained. Never.

"You're Kevin," I said, harshly. "Kevin Blue. I read your file."

That was a lie. I hadn't exactly read his file. I'd only read his name.

Kevin laughed softly.

"Well, your files are incorrect," he said. "My name is not Kevin."

"Sure it's not," I said.

I turned away from him, making my way toward the door to leave the cell.

"My name is Simon. Simon Bae."

I stopped and looked back at him.

"Doesn't matter if you tell me you name is George Clooney," I said. "I know what your name is, Kevin. I'm not falling for any lies. I know your name, I know you're in here for something you've done, something bad, and I know you're not getting out any time soon. No one in E-block does."

His eyes softened, and he seemed to be thinking something over.

"Why are you here anyway?" he asked. "You're just a kid. You shouldn't be hanging out in a prison. Don't you have school or something?"

"I've always been here," I snapped. "My father build this place. And I'm not a kid. I'm fourteen. And I don't need school. I've got everything I want right here. Why would I go to a place where I would only get to learn stupid information that I'll never need?"

"Wait," Kevin said. "You've always been here? As in growing up here?"

"Yeah, so what?" I snapped.

"I just …" He glanced around the cell. "I mean, I've only seen this part, but still. You're room's not like this, right? You're not my neighbor in the cell to the right?"

He spoke the words jokingly, but something in his eyes told me he was actually appalled at the thought of me sleeping in a cell next to him.

"Of course not! I live in a house. A normal house! With a normal bedroom."

"And what? You're a fourteen year old girl who commutes daily to a prison, just to feed the criminals?"

"No," I said, my tone hinting on a bit of stupidity on his part. "I live in the housing area. With my dad. I don't live in the actual prison. That's stupid."

"Housing area?" he asked. "What's that?"

"It's where we live," I said. "The people who work here. Who isn't locked up. The good people."

He was silent for a moment.

"You're telling me you live in a house close to here? That everyone who works here do that? Does everyone in town work here? What kind of place is this? Is this some kind of cult?"

Anger flared inside me at that word.

"We're not a cult!" I exclaimed. "We're not weird! All we do is help everyone else by keeping tabs on their problems! Do you see anyone else spending their days making sure the bad people isn't out there tormenting the innocent? No. Because they ship them off to us and then forget about the whole thing. Do they thank us? No. Do they offer assistance. No. They go around chatting amongst each other about how the weird and anti-social bunch at Winters Penitentiary can be used as a fucking escape goat! We're not some stupid little box you can open and lock away your problems in! We're doing the world a huge a favor with this prison! It's the only one, the only one in the world for supernaturals. We dedicate out lives to this! And all everyone else does is look down at us. Call us names. Cult! Who do they think they are? We offer them security. Magical barriers, trained guards, fucking zombies even and they just …"

I breathed. It wasn't like me to just lose it like that. It wasn't even like me to curse. I just got so angry with people who didn't understand. Kevin just stared at me. I glared at him.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few seconds of silence.

I sighed and looked down.

"Of course I want to leave this forest some day," I said. "I want to go to New York, London, anywhere else. And I will. I just … My father's … I have to stay here for now. But I'll go. Once I get older."

"Forest?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, I've been in this forest my entire life. I know about the rest of the world, but I've just never left …"

I stopped short and looked up at him. His face was soft and he seemed to be really listening to what I was saying. Once again I felt angry. Really angry.

"Stop!" I said. "I can't believe I fell for this."

I took the step I needed to transport.

"Fell for what?" he asked just before I found myself on the other side of the door. His face appeared by the window.

"Fell for what?" he asked again.

I glared at him.

"Next time, you don't speak to me," I hissed. "Don't even look at me! I'm not your source of information!"

With that, I pushed the cart along, walking away from his cell.

"I wasn't–" was all I had time to hear before he was out of earshot.

I cursed myself for letting myself be fooled. I'd stood there, jabbering on and on about what this place was, where it was and about how well it was guarded. How could I be so stupid? Even if he was locked in there, even if the magic wouldn't allow him any connection to his powers, that sort of information was never meant for the ears of the prisoners. They couldn't know where they were. What they were dealing with. All they should know was that they were here for something they'd done. What if Kevin found a way to contact someone outside? He'd have all the information needed for them to think out a plan. If they knew about the magic and the zombies, there was a possibility that they'd find a way passed it. We weren't invincible.

I tried thinking back to our previous conversation. Had I let anything slip then? I couldn't think of anything. And he kept saying someone was coming for him. What if that was true? What is someone really was out there, trying their hardest to break him out. What is that person, those persons actually had the abilities to do so? My father would kill me if he knew what I'd just done. He'd be so mad.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream I was so angry with myself. I had to do something. I had to make sure this wouldn't risk anything.

I went over it in my head. What could I do? I'd already told him so much and I didn't know what he was able of … I thought of it them. I admit, it wasn't a solution, not at all, but it was a beginning to finding one. If I didn't know what Kevin Blue was able to do, if I didn't know about any possible connections he had or any possible fellow criminals, I'd have to found out.

I had to read his file.