Page 15 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah, just the same old fight, you know? He wants me home. He likes to remind me of the power he holds. Of what I won’t have if I really leave him and move out on my own. That all these perks I’m still living with will no longer be. Of course he finishes it with an ‘I just miss you, darling. I want you home with me.’”
What a load of crap. “Is it really so bad that you can’t leave?”
She looks away for a brief second. “I want to make my marriage work. It’ll be fine. Let’s talk about what you’re going to wear on the weekend.”
Swift avoidance of the conversation there. Well played, really. “I’ll wear whatever you have to lend me.”
She laughs, but there is sadness in her eyes.
I wish she’d talk to me.
I really, really do.
7
THEN – CALLIE
I’m scared.
So damned afraid.
All the people in here stared at me as the guards walked me in. All the people who have been locked away well before they became adults. All of them are rough-looking, and scary, and give me stares that tell me I’m not going to like being in here one little bit. I’m the rich white girl, the small, fragile one. I’m a target, whether I like it or not.
I’ve watched enough shows on television to know what will happen to a girl like me in a place like this.
I swallow, and try to hold my shoulders back straight, but they slump forward against my wishes, showing me that even though I want to try and be tough, inside, I’m not. I’m not tough at all. I’m a murderer—that’s who I am. At least, that’s how people are going to see me when they hear what I’ve done.
I’m a dead girl walking.
The sign-in process is long. My mother has to fill out a heap of forms. She’s still crying. I know deep down, she doesn’t care about me. She cares about herself, her reputation, everything that’s wrong in her world. How this is going to affect her. How this is going to ruin her life. What is she going to do when she walks down the street and everyone asks her about her criminal daughter?
She’ll never get over it.
I’m searched, given some clothes to wear—a green pair of long pants and a black tee. Then, I’m talked through the whole process of the center. Times to eat, when to shower, how long I have to stay in my cell each day, all the activities I must participate in, which include but are not limited to outside work, cleaning, and helping in the kitchen. It isn’t a free ride, or a vacation.
I’m then placed in my cell. Four D.
I’m with another girl. She’s fair-skinned, too. I’m thankful, because she doesn’t look so terrifying. She has long black hair and big grey eyes, and is skinny. Like she hasn’t eaten a great deal in the last few months. Do they not feed us properly here? I don’t know. I don’t know anything except I’m so afraid, I’m fighting all the reactions in my body. Crying, screaming, begging—you name it, I’m feeling it.
“This is Madeline. She’s your cellmate,” the guard tells me. “Any fights will have you locked away in solitary. We don’t deal with violence around here. Dinner is in two hours.”
He slams the door to the room shut. It isn’t a cell as such, meaning it doesn’t have bars, but instead a door. I’m thankful for that.
I turn with shaky hands and stare at Madeline. I’m not sure if she’s friendly, or going to try and kill me in my sleep. I guess I’m about to find out.
“Hey,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m Callie.”
She nods, not in an aggressive way, thank God. “Better than the last girl they had in here with me.”
The urge to ask what happened to the last girl is strong, but I don’t. Probably because deep down, I actually don’t want to know.
“She got out,” Madeline says to me, clearly reading my expression. “I’m not going to hurt you, abuse you or be cruel. Don’t worry. Been in here a year now. I know how this place works; you’re safe in this cell.”
Oh. Thank God.
“Thanks,” I say softly, staring at the bed and assuming it is mine.
We have one each, and since Madeline is sitting on one, I can only assume my position on mine. The small, narrow bed squeaks when I sit on it. The rusty springs beneath the mattress clearly having been here a good, long time. It’s clean, though, and the bedding is seemingly well taken care of. The room is rather big, in all honesty. A bed lines either wall, and at the back in the corner is a small room which no doubt contains a toilet.
