It's impossible to fall asleep with the guilt eating away at the lining of my stomach. There is a heavy weight that nests uncomfortably there—burrowing under the stress of being locked up day after day. I cannot believe what I said to Mace, or where inside of me it came from.
After a few hours of restless tossing, I finally notice that Mace isn't snoring like usual. I sit up and hang over the railing of the bunk to see that he's wide awake too—his hands are behind his head with his elbows sticking out on each side.
"Can't sleep either?" I ask.
"I keep thinking about that Game of Thrones, thanks to you," Mace grumbles, and that's enough to get me moving out of bed. He's clearly not mad enough to give me the silent treatment, and there is the slightest relief I feel as I climb down the ladder. "What are you doing?"
"Mace, I'm sorry—I feel like shit for what I said…" I hit the concrete floor; in the dark, I can make out Mace's shadowed frame sitting up.
I don't think I can sleep until he outright forgives me.
"It's fine," he dismisses. "Besides, I'm feeling like shit too. I've known Bridges a long time so… it's easier for me to understand him. That doesn't mean what he does was right."
There is a beautiful release of tension within me. I kneel on the edge of Mace's bed and he shuffles over to give me room to climb on. I take the spot near his feet at the foot of the bed and cross my legs.
"I can't understand that guy at all," I admit. "Did he really call me Kitty just to piss Ox off?"
Mace's bare shoulders shrug; he's crammed himself against the wall to give me room to sit with him. "Why else?"
There's no reason that immediately comes to mind, but I also don't know their history. The silence between us speaks for itself.
"What did the Warden want, anyway?" Mace asks.
I quietly launch into the story about Bridges' deal, and the Warden's predicament with the press. Mace listens without interrupting, but I can feel his surprise—especially the part where I negotiated the end of lockdown.
When I'm finished, I turn to Mace in the dark. "What do you think I should ask the Warden for?"
"That's something you should decide," Mace advises, but his tone reveals he's still completely mind-blown about the situation. "That's an awful big favor for the Warden so you should ask for everything you want."
This isn't exactly helpful, but I know deep down I want to ask for things that would benefit us both. After a moment, an idea hits me in the dark.
"What about access to that workout room?" I suggest, remembering its location in Commons. "It might be better if we train there…"
"You hate training," Mace reminds. "Keep thinking, Kid."
It's true that for the first few days working out with Mace was painful and exhausting. But—after being manhandled by Bridges and feeling so helpless the whole way to the Warden's office—I'm considering all the benefits hard training has to offer.
Passing time with Mace. Having a better body. Getting stronger, less fearful…
I'm caught up in my thoughts when Mace brings me back to reality with my new trigger word.
"I still can't believe you asked Bridges to lift lockdown," he says. "That's huge."
"We were going to get out in a few days anyway," I remind.
"Not Knuckle," Mace counters, giving me a small kick to my legs. "And if you didn't know it yet, Knuckle's not quite right up there." He finger taps the side of his own head in reference. "One too many car crashes. He'll be back on Roo the minute he can, and we'll all be back in lockdown."
I groan at the possibility of that happening. "How do you stay sane through all this?"
Mace answers with a grim laugh. "You don't."
I hit the foot nearest to me and he sighs. "You'll be fine though, Kid. Having a cell mate helps more than even I thought it would. I've never had one last this long before."
Right. Mace murdered a few of them.
"Now tell me the rest of this Game of Thrones so I can go to sleep."