I reached the jailhouse but was afraid to go in. Momentarily. Then, I pictured Trey’s loving face and hurried inside.

I got to see him quickly but when I walked in, he didn’t look too happy to see me. I sat down across from him in a little grey chair inside of a little grey room. A guard stood outside of the room, seeming to be protecting something. But what? Me …

“You shouldn’t be here, Kit.â€? Trey growled in a whisper. He wouldn’t look at me but I could see how tired and worn he looked. Almost broken.

“Well I am.â€? I tried to look into his eyes but he grabbed my hands, holding them gently, until he saw the marks.

Trey’s grip tightened and his jaw clenched as he glanced over the bruises on my wrists. It seemed strange to me that he just noticed them now, weeks after Jack and … minutes after James. Okay, so maybe not so strange.

It might also help that I avoided showing them to him. They weren’t some open exhibit; I wasn’t about to be talking to him about how they got there. At least that’s what I thought.