“You know you aren’t though, you know?”

“I know but I don’t feel it,” she said. “My feelings are taking a while to catch up with things, and then this is dragging those feelings the opposite way. It’s fucking with me.”

“It ends soon,” I told her.

“Maybe. Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining. Not when—”

I shifted position, scratching at and tugging on my ear.

“—there are so many bigger, realer things to worry about.”

“It’s big enough and real enough to you,” I told her. “It’s who you are. That’s massive.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I put it that way.”

A good thirty seconds passed where we didn’t talk. The guard that stood by the bars looked a touch restless, which put me on edge, but that didn’t seem to be the prelude to anything. Nobody was audible in the hallway, and nothing came of the restlessness.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I was so anxious, when you got hurt. Then we didn’t get attention, and then when we did, it all went wrong. You’re really okay?”

“M and S protocol, but okay.”

I saw her eyebrows knit together for a second before she forced them apart. She clenched one hand, then rubbed it with her other hand, before tracing that hand up her arm to her wound. Her voice, though, remained casual, as she said, “That’s a pain.”

I shrugged. “Mark and Aunt Sarah.”

“Ugh, family,” she said.

“Yeah. Family,” I said, sighing.

Our tone remained casual. A few more names that anyone overhearing wouldn’t necessarily pick up on. Only the use of the word ‘protocol’ would stand out.

I could hear footsteps in the hallway.

Time was up already?

“I’ll help when I can, once we’re out of this,” Sveta said. “Mark and Sarah or no.”

“Yeah. We should be out soon, so just stay safe.”

“Yeah,” she said.

The door opened. More guards. My escort.

The prisoners in these cells got up to five minutes of company up to three times a day, never the same person more than once. Shin viewed the family unit as something to keep together, so the policy was meant to let kids visit parents and parents provide guidance to kids. There were cultural aspects in the midst of it all.

“Thanks for keeping me sane,” Sveta said.

“Likewise,” I told her.

The guards liked to manhandle us, to put hands on us and guide us, forcing us to move. I didn’t fight them on it, though I did flinch slightly as one suddenly brought a hand near my eye. It made him smirk, as he pushed on the back of my head, driving it forward and down, while two more shoved my back and shoulder, respectively.