Alexis lay on the infirmary bed, her eyes clamped shut. She was raging inside and wanted to tear the place apart, destroying anything – or anyone – in her path. But it was agony to move, her arms and her legs having sustained significant second-degree burns, so she was forced to remain still, swearing violently at anyone who dared approach her.
Even though she’d been in shock, she’d insisted on walking to the infirmary herself. In the process, she’d aggravated her burns, with the result that the skin on her legs and arms was severely blistered by the time the doctors finally got hold of her. They had administered drugs straight away but still their every touch went right through her, as they tried to bind and salve her wounds. She had never felt pain like it, but this had now been replaced by something even worse. She was being tortured by a persistent, nagging agony – it felt as if someone was holding a naked flame to her limbs.
Some concerned friends had tried to gain access to the infirmary, but Alexis was in no fit state to receive them, unable to concentrate on anything except her own discomfort, so she’d refused their visits. Besides, she knew she looked ridiculous, with her arms and legs swathed in thick bandages and her front teeth missing. There was no way she would let them see her like this. She looked like a weakling, a broken woman. She looked beaten.
She would have to fight hard to convince the rest of the prison that she wasn’t. Her status, her position in the pecking order, even her life might depend upon it. But the truth was that she was defeated. She had taken on her nemesis twice and been bested both times. She had no doubts that this would have serious consequences for her life in Holloway and she cursed the Southampton police officer from the bottom of her heart.
She had never hated Helen Grace as much as she did tonight.