The others scatter along the walkway toward their original home, and after a brief glance, Milla turns toward the room I was originally imprisoned in. Irrational panic grips me. Maybe she just wants peace and quiet to relax, but I can't put the bitterness of my own stay there out of my mind. I can't shake the idea that someone's going to lock her in there when she sleeps, and she'll be just as tortured as I was. The others are in my line of sight, but if she goes in there, she won't be. She glares at me when I come a little too close. “Humor me, please?” I hope I don't have to explain. “You mind seeing my feet when you rest?” I demonstrate, sitting down outside the door and pushing my feet in, where someone would have to move them to lock her in. She stares a moment longer, making me wonder what the hell she's so afraid of. Does she really see me as that threatening? But she decides not to make a fight of it. “Whatever you want, boss.”
