I couldn’t expect him to understand. I hadn’t told him about my visions.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” he said. “I’m sorry you miss her. But I want you to trust me when I tell you that you did nothing wrong.”

“You warned me that you’re a liar,” I reminded him.

“Not about this.”

I didn’t believe him. It was such a relief, though, to imagine the possibility that I could, so I said nothing to contradict him. I said nothing about the signatures I had forged, the legitimate documents whose words I made fade, then overwrote with new names, new physical descriptions. I said nothing about hearing the body’s fall, or how blood leaked from it like thick red ink. It was so nice to accept, even if only for the moment, Sid’s impression of me. Kind. Blameless. I liked his image of me so much I wanted to let it grow like a small fire.

He said, “May I tell you a secret?”

“What if I say no?”

“Unacceptable. I hate the thought of you saying no to me.”

There were no windows to the outside. I had no idea whether it was night or day, or what the weather was like beyond cold. But his lowered voice made me imagine snow falling outside the prison, dusting lightly over stone. I imagined sitting beside him, my shoulder brushing his.

“It’s not allowed, you see,” he said. “You must always say yes.”

He talked the way I bet Aden wanted to talk, but Aden would mean it and Sid didn’t. Sid spoke lightly, as though he wanted his words to be easy for me to shrug away if I didn’t like them.

Sid was entitled and nosy. And kind. Ready to laugh, even at himself. I didn’t like everything that he said, but I liked him.

“What if,” he said, “you agree to say yes to me three times only. A mere three times! In return, I shall do something for you.”

Warily, I said, “What?”

“A favor.”

“A favor?”

“I give very good favors.”

Since I wouldn’t see him again outside of this prison and there was little I could say yes to inside of it that I would regret, I said, “Yes, I agree to your bargain, which is already one time, and yes, I agree that you can tell me your secret, which makes twice.”

He made an amused sound. “I had better cherish my last yes. I had better use it wisely.”

“Go on, tell me your secret.”

“I ran away from home.”

“Why?”

“I suffered terribly there.”

“Suffered! You are a liar.” He hadn’t suffered a day in his life.

“You have no idea,” he said, “what a delight it is to annoy you. I could annoy you all day.”

“That I believe.”