The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 24

Margot’s POV

The bathroom door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t even need to look up to feel the shift in the air.

Coban’s presence very quickly sucked the oxygen from the room like a black hole.

He loomed behind me as I crouched beside the open boxes, my fingers still resting on the fuzzy edge of the blanket they’d given me soft, warm–looking, harmless.

––

Unlike everything else in this place.

I sensed him staring down at me. His shadow stretched long over mine, and the weight of his gaze made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

He exhaled a dry scoff above me. “Treating you bitches like fucking royalty,” he muttered, voice like gravel scraping over glass as he eyed my things. “As though you’re some hero coming in here – when in reality, you’re just a dumb bitch, putting your life in danger.”

I didn’t respond. Allowing his harsh words to settle in.

I just lowered my eyes down to the slippers again – sitting like a cruel joke inside beige, soft, untouched of a box made for my own survival.

But before I could think up what to say back, Coban wasn’t finished yet…

–

“We’re just using you all to get out, you know that, right?” he snapped down at me suddenly, the venom in his voice slicing through the thin thread of peace that I had tried to gather earlier in the bathroom.

My heart quickened, but I kept my face even as I stood up, slowly, dropping the blanket back in to its box as I turned to glance up at him.

‘I guess that I’m also using you to get some money out of this though, right?” I said carefully, my tone quiet but steady. “Could be a win–win for the both of us?” I gave a small shrug, but nothing.

For a moment, there was silence and I didn’t quite know if my words had helped the matter or not…

But then his jaw tightened.

Coban’s eyes darkened, narrowing into something far more dangerous than amusement,

“Don’t get smart with me,” he growled, stepping in closer, his height casting a full shadow across my body now. “You might be here for your little paycheck, princess, but if you think for a second that makes us equals in this… then you’re already dumber than you look. This place is my house, what I say goes, and you’re only going to get out of this alive if I want you to! If I want you gone or swapped for someone else in this project, then I’ll make it happen! So I suggest you learn how to behave!” He concludes firmly.

I swallowed, hard.

His breath was warm against my face now. Close enough that I could smell the faint hint of mint toothpaste from the brush he’d used earlier, and the clean citrus soap left from the shower dispenser on his skin.

He tilted his head, his tone dropping in to a horrifying whisper. “So to make this clearer, incase you don’t understand… If you annoy me enough whilst you’re in here, I’ll be real quick to teach you a fucking lesson before getting rid of you. You understand me?”

“Y–Yes, Coban” I said, fast. Too fast. I hated how my voice had come out in a rushed whisper, breathy and small. “I understand what you’re saying and I’m sorry if I’ve upset you already, I’m just nervous, I’m trying to do b–better.” I admit to him weakly.

“Good.” He stepped back just an inch – but it felt like a mile of air rushed back into my lungs when he did. “There will be rules of course,” he added, eyes scanning mine like a threat was hiding behind them. “Rules you’re gonna follow if you want to keep me happy in here.”

I nodded, not even hesitating this time. “Okay. Yeah. Uhh… that will help. I’ll follow the rules.”

I didn’t even ask what they were. I didn’t need to. Not yet. I’d agree to anything in that moment just to get his mood to stop spiraling toward something worse.

He didn’t elaborate. Just turned away, scratching absently at his neck whilst yawning as though threatening me had drained what little energy he had left.

He dropped back onto the bed with a grunt.

My hair didn’t need washed, so I tied it up and stepped beneath the spray and let the heat hit my shoulders, my face, my chest.

For a long time, I just stood there, arms wrapped around myself, letting it wash away the salt of fear, the ache of tension, the grit of silence.

But the thing about water? It couldn’t clean the kind of filth this place embedded in you.

Still, I used the citrus soap and scrubbed until my skin flushed pink, rinsed the bubbles and then stepped out.

I undone my hair, brushing through the knots until it laid straight, and I dried off with one of the white towels they’d so thoughtfully packed for me.

My sleepwear felt foreign. Soft, but foreign. Like it didn’t belong to me.

I brushed my teeth quickly, barely taking a second to glance at myself in the mirror before moving to hurry out fearful again that I was taking too long.

When I stepped out I still sat, hair still damp – I didn’t say anything as I crossed to the corner where my boxes.

After five minutes, I heard his breathing even out, as I bucked up the courage to pay him a glance – he was sound asleep again.

Ok, great… I sighed softly,

I carefully and quietly continued folding my things before gently peeling open the bottom drawer – thankful Coban had left it free for me.

Tomorrow is a new day, and tonight, I’ll have to make do on the carpeted floor…