"What ya lookin like that for? It’s only the warden."

"Wardens don’t knock."

I stood and inched a bit closer to the door.

"Then who..."

I shushed her rather quickly and sharply. Very rarely am I not sure about things, but I had no idea on earth who could have been at that door. I did consider for a minute that it might have been Marconi, but shook it, he came at night. Whoever it was was going to get the poor, sick orphan routine. The knocking came stronger and louder. I mussed up my hair, rubbed my hands along the floor and spread the dirt and dust up my arms and on my face and neck, and started a phlegm-filled coughing fit and still managed to muster out a depricated:

"Who's there?"

McCartney stared at me like I was crazy, but I gave her a side-glance that she read extraordinarily well and she climbed into her bunk groaning and clutching her stomach. A snooty, upper class accent penetrated the walls and reached my ears.

"Are you young ladies fit for my eyes?"

"If yer askin if we got clothes on, yeah." I replied, coughing like there was no tomorrow.

The door swung open and a handsome man came storming in and grabbed me above the elbow, hauled me out into the hall and swung me to face the wide-eyed warden.

"Look at this child, do you mean to tell me that you are running a healthy institution here? I can't tell what are bruises and what is dirt!" The man shouted, presenting me to the warden. I said it once and I'll say it again, I should have been an actress. I gave one of the grandest performances ever.

Then I looked at the man's face-- a slithering, serpentine smirk was winding its way across one side of his mouth. I should have known Snake Eyes would go so far to get me.

"She's sick too!" I shouted, pointing in to McCartney, curled up on her bunk, "We all gots it! I mean the kid 'cross th' way too!"

Wardens, for the most part are skeptical of everything. How would I ever expect him to let a perfect, yet slick talking, stranger take his most frequent prisoner and her apparent cohort away to freedom? Well, I didn't. So I figured Marconi would get the three instead of one bargain.

"Warden, open that other door! He kept a grip on me and the warden did as he asked.

Marconi pulled the same routine with the scrawny boy in that cell, then proceeded to slick talk his way to a reason to leave and not return.

"These children need proper care and attention, and they will not be returning. This, I'm sure, has been torture and punishment enough for anybody," He walked in to McCartney and put his hand on her shoulder, whispered something into her ear, picked her up in a ball and stormed past the warden, me and the scrawny boy in tow. Marconi had done it again.