Chapter 4 - Whispers in the Dark
The infirmary was locked down when Evelyn arrived, escorted by Captain Vance. The heavy iron security gate was drawn, and two additional guards stood outside the double doors, their expressions grim.
Ximena was waiting inside, her face a pale mask of exhaustion. When she saw Evelyn, a brief flash of relief washed over her features, quickly replaced by professional distance as Vance stepped into the room.
"Dr. Reed," Ximena said, offering a formal nod. "The patient files are laid out in Examination Room 1. We have prepared the primary subject, Rebecca Torres, for your interview."
"Thank you, Nurse Martinez," Evelyn said. She turned to Captain Vance, who was standing by the door, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "Captain, you may remain outside the examination room. Close the door behind me."
Vance didn't move immediately. He looked at Ximena, then at Evelyn, a subtle, menacing intensity radiating from his posture. "Dr. Reed, Torres is a convicted armed robber. She has a history of violent outbursts. For your own safety, I strongly advise—"
"I am well aware of the risks, Captain," Evelyn interrupted, her tone sharp as a scalpel. "Close the door."
With a slow, deliberate movement, Vance stepped back into the hallway, pulling the heavy wood-and-glass door shut. The click of the latch sounded like a small victory, but Evelyn knew the real battle was inside the room.
Rebecca Torres sat on the edge of the examination table, her orange uniform looking three sizes too big for her slight frame. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, her shoulders hunched forward as if she were trying to occupy as little space as possible. She didn't look up when Evelyn entered.
Evelyn pulled up a stool, setting her briefcase on the counter. She didn't open it immediately. Instead, she sat down, keeping her body language relaxed and non-threatening.
"Hello, Rebecca," Evelyn said softly. "I’m Dr. Reed. I don't work for the prison, and I don't report to Warden Cardenas. I'm here from the federal medical board to make sure you are healthy and safe."
Rebecca remained silent, her gaze fixed entirely on the polished linoleum floor.
"I've reviewed your charts," Evelyn continued, keeping her voice low and even. "Your pregnancy is at approximately nine weeks. The baby is developing normally, but your blood pressure is dangerously high, and Nurse Martinez notes that you’ve been skipping your meals in the mess hall. Can you tell me what's going on?"
Rebecca’s lip trembled, but she locked her jaw, refusing to speak.
Evelyn leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a bare whisper. "Rebecca... I know about Mariana. I know about Yazmin and Lydia. Four of you, all in the same short window. This isn't an accident. Someone is coming into your cells. Someone who has the keys. Someone who has the power to turn off the cameras."
At the mention of the word cameras, Rebecca’s head snapped up. Her eyes were wide, filled with a wild, frantic terror that struck Evelyn like a physical blow. She gripped the edge of the metal table so hard her knuckles turned stark white.
"Don't say that," Rebecca whispered, her voice cracking with raw panic. "Don't talk about the cameras. They see everything. Even when you think they’re off, they’re watching. If they see me talking to you... if they think I’m telling... I won't make it to my delivery date. None of us will."
"Who are 'they,' Rebecca?" Evelyn pressed gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand near the inmate's arm, though she didn't touch her, respecting her boundaries. "Tell me a name. Give me something I can take to the federal prosecutors. We can get you transferred out of this facility tonight. We can put you in a secure medical wing in a different state."
Rebecca let out a ragged, hysterical sob, shaking her head violently. "You don't understand! You think the walls protect you? The walls are what keeps us trapped with them! There is no transfer, Doctor. The paper you write your reports on? It goes straight to the people who control the gates. You can't save us. You’re just going to get yourself killed."
Suddenly, the door to the examination room swung open without a knock. Captain Vance stood in the threshold, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
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"Time's up for the first interview, Doctor," Vance said, his voice entirely flat, devoid of any emotion. "Warden’s orders. We need to return the inmate to her cell block for the afternoon headcount."
Evelyn stood up slowly, her heart pounding against her ribs. She looked at Rebecca, who had immediately dropped her gaze back to the floor, her entire body trembling. Evelyn realized with a sickening certainty that the fear in this room wasn't just about what had happened in the past. It was about what was happening every single night—a living, breathing horror story that was being protected by the highest levels of institutional power.
