Officer MacRae came and took Monkey away...I don't know where, and I sat staring at the empty cell across from me. I needed to talk to Greyson but I couldn't do it from all the way at the other end of the corridor. How would I get down there? I decided to lay down and mull it over...these beds were attached and suspended from the wall and mine was on the right of the cell. I sat on it, facing the bars and rationalized that I had to sleep facing the wall so I wouldn't see that maniacal murderer that lurked every time I fell asleep, waiting for me to turn over and see him before he pounced on me. I did just that, I laid, facing the wall and shrieked immediately, spotting a problem and an opportunity.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "MACRAE!!! I NEED YOU!!"

He and McCartney came running in quickly, fearing that I had been stabbed by the maniacal murderer.

MacRae was almost pleasant, "Goodness, what is it?"

"I can't sleep in this cell! You need to move me!"

"What do you mean you can't sleep in this cell? Is this some sort of prank?"

"No. I HAVE to sleep facing the wall and I can't do it in this cell because of my arm. I need to be across the hall in one of thecells that have the bed on the left."

"Well, why can't you just face the other way? Head to the bars."

I played going psychotic, "Because I have an extreme case of paranoia! I HAVE to sleep facing the wall and with my head as close to a corner as it can get, do you need any more reasons? Huh? Huh?"

He looked visibly frightened, "Okay, okay, I'll move you. Anything so that you'll shut up."

He got the keys and moved me to where I said I'd be comfortable...the cell next to Greyson's. He didn't even ask any more questions. Something inside of me said that they had liquor in the offices and weren't sharing, but I said nothing more and laid down, pretending to sleep. Monkey followed MacRae out and Greyson and I had the corridor to ourselves. There was no light streaming in, save the candle in my cell and Greyson's. I didn't know what to say to him, but I didn't have to, he spoke first.

"What was that all about?" Greyson asked.

I didn't answer him.

"McCain, what is wrong with you? I know something's wrong, please tell me."

"How do you know? What did Monkey tell you? What?" I was becoming suspicous.

"Oh, she didn't tell me anything! Calm down...no, that's the problem. Why didn't you put up a fight when they brought you in here? You always put up a fight when they bring you in whether you need to or not," he was genuinely concerned, god, I loved him.

"How's your arm, Greyson?" I asked, not all together avoiding his question.

"McCain, answer me!" He demanded.

"I said, how's your arm?" I retorted, forcefully.

"You're making me nervous, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Did Monkey tell you about what happened in Central Park?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did she tell you what happened before that?"

"About being split up?"

"Before."

"No."

"We were in this alley and she exposed us to Jack and Race. We got split and Race let her off... Jack, well..."

"He didn't!"

"He did, and on top of all that, I came to get some payback on McCartney, hauled her in the face and MacRae tried to pry me off. I slipped on the stairs and he didn't let go... broke my arm."

Greyson said nothing, but I heard him slide to the wall that was common between our cells and sit on the floor. I sat with him and we talked and plotted and became emotional and both fell asleep on the floor.

I was going to the last day of the trial and things were going to get interesting.

ch.35