The Mind Games by Lori Brighton Page B

It was a bathroom. A toilet, a shower and sink. No mirror. No door on the shower, and no door hiding the toilet, but I supposed I should be thankful that I even had one. I started to move toward the sink when I heard a shuffle behind me. I froze.
    “Cameron.”
    Had the stun gun made me crazy? Had I imagined him calling my name?
    “Lewis,” I whispered.
    “Cam?”
    I spun around. Through the bars at the front of my cell, I could see him. Lewis, in another cell across from me. He stood half-hidden in the shadows where the fluorescent lights didn’t quite reach. But there was no mistaking that body, that face.
    “Lewis!” I stumbled forward and grabbed the bars of my cell for support. “Lewis?”
    He was alive. My knees went weak and I sank to the cement floor, still gripping the bars, afraid to let go, afraid this was all a dream. I’d never been so relieved in my life. I wanted to grab his hand and run. I slid my arm through the bars, but he was too far away. Defeated, I let my arm slump to my side.
    “You’re here.” My throat clogged with a myriad of emotions, some of which I couldn’t even identify; had never felt before.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, taking a hesitant step closer to his bars, acting strangely standoffish. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, and he didn’t seem exactly thrilled either.
    He wore the gray jumpsuit that all prisoners wore, making him looked washed out and pale. But as the light hit his face, the circles under his eyes were so dark he almost looked like a football player trying to block the glare of the sun. It was his shaved head that startled me the most.
    My happiness faded. “Yes…yes, fine. You?”
    Maybe they’d shaved his head because they did it with all male prisoners. Or maybe, just maybe, they were going to go into his brain as they had with Nora.
    He nodded. “I’m okay.”
    For a breathless moment, we didn’t speak. I couldn’t help but notice how he had his left arm wrapped around his waist, his palm flat to his right side. He was hurt. I swallowed hard and shifted my gaze to his shoulder where that bullet had hit. “Your wound?”
    He rolled his shoulders. “Good. It’s healing. Just a bit stiff.”
    What was wrong with him, because I could sense that something was different? Did he blame me for putting him in this mess? “Why?” I snapped, gripping the bars more tightly. “Why did you step in front of that bullet? Of all the stupid things!”
    He gave me a crooked smile, a smile I knew well. A smile that made my blood warm. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
    I felt the sudden sting of tears, but was determined to ignore them. “You could have died.”
    “I’m okay.”
    But he didn’t look okay. He looked like a pale reflection of who he’d been; almost as if I talked to a ghost. I swore, even though it had been less than a week, he seemed thinner. And he was acting different. Something was definitely wrong.
    “What is it?” I demanded, tired of the secrets, tired of the games.
    He raked his hand over his shaved head, obviously flustered. “Why are you here? Did you not get my message?”
    Confused, I frowned. “Message?” Suddenly it dawned on me…the dream when we’d kissed in that field. My eyes widened. “It was real?”
    He nodded hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure himself.
    “How?”
    He lowered his arm and shuffled toward his cot like a man decrepit and broken with age. “I don’t know, but when I stood in that field with you, I just knew it was real.”
    This conversation was becoming way too personal. I glanced up and down the hall, looking for cameras but saw none. Still, I knew we were being watched; most likely they could hear us talking. I had to be careful about what I said. “I had to try and save you.”
    He closed his eyes and hung his head so his chin rested near his chest. “It was stupid Cameron. There was no way you’d break me out. It was stupid to come here. You’ve only put yourself in danger as