Chapter 71
“WHO IS SHE?” BY I MONSTER
The paint chipped off the wall with the help of my nail. It didn’t take too much effort. My cell was a urine yellow color before I arrived, stained bricks with large portions of paint peeling off the walls from the humidity.
When it rained here, it poured. I really enjoyed juvenile detention compared to max.
This prison really showed the fucked-up nature of our society and how we treated convicts.
There were nights the snow on the roof melted through the holes in the ceiling and puddled beside my steel bed.
If I wanted to, I could reach through and chew on the asbestos that concealed my only chance of escaping this hell.
It was January. I missed Christmas, New Years, and in a few weeks, I’d miss my daughter’s fourth birthday. While my classmates went back to school after a wonderful break, I wondered what I did in my past life to deserve to rot in a cell.
It was loud here. I never was someone who enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the Harrekson name. Sometimes, I felt like a princess expected to make a show of who I was. Even in prison, where everyone knew my legacy.
I turned over and stared up at the top of my bunk. Other inmates were shouting inside their cells. Keys rattled as the officer on deck checked on a few women. It was always like this, never quite done buzzing with chaos.
A pounding noise pulled me away from the picture of Estelle and Erica above my head.
I’d tapped the pictures my mother managed to get in to me above my head to help keep my thoughts positive.
Though, sometimes, the lines blurred, and I worried I was beginning to forget the important little details about my loved ones.
“Harrekson!”
I jerked up from the bed and rose to my feet to defend myself. There were too many rough pigs assigned to my cell. Ever since the charges on me went public and my trial date posted, everyone treated me a little different.
The officer with the pinched face peered through the glass with a smile—Officer Hugh and his stupid buzz cut. When I first got here, he had a man bun and balls. Now, he acted like a little bitch.
“You got a visitor.” Hugh pulled open the loud door and glanced at the water pooling on the floor of my cell. He didn’t care. No one did. “Let’s go, Inmate!”
I dragged myself out of my cell and looked around the multi-story facility.
It wasn’t as pretty as the first jail I was booked into after being arrested.
There had been too many changes these past few weeks.
If I was going to rot, I wanted to rot in one cell until someone offered me the death penalty.
Eventually, I’d be weak enough to accept it.
Hugh took my arms as I held them behind my back. The cuffs were snug this time. Last time, I felt they were too loose for anyone to feel safe around a monster like me. He held my upper forearm and shoved me forward.
“Is it my lawyer?” I asked.
The guard directed me down the hall toward the elevator. It was under heavy surveillance and usually had two officers nearby with guns drawn, awaiting any issues one of us might cause.
My nostrils flared as the elevator door clunked open.
The two guards lowered their weapons and grabbed my upper arms in a bruising grip.
They guided me inside under the only bright lights in the facility.
The elevator’s door closed, but unlike every other time I’d been escorted, the glass was shattered in the tiny rectangles.
I swallowed down the burning lump in my throat and closed my eyes. The guards didn’t move a muscle the entire way down, holding me securely until we reached the first floor.
“Walk,” the one to my right spoke up, his voice deep and rough.
I didn’t resist, not like when I first arrived. I’d been here long enough to know it only got me punished for working against the officers.
I always thought the way my father treated me was the worse I could be treated. Never once had I considered being less than human in a maximum-security prison.
When we reached the bottom, I was passed to another officer. They escorted me across the first floor to the visitation center, where someone was waiting for me. I didn’t get visitors often, not even from my mother.
“Number twelve.” The guard nodded me down the aisle of stools bolted to the ground.
I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish unlocking my handcuffs. Once I was free, if I could even call it that, I dragged my feet forward and counted the stools.
One, two, three, four . . .
I slowed when a face came into view through the thick, bulletproof glass. Once the twelfth stool appeared, I released a relieved breath and ripped the phone off the holder.
“I thought you’d never?—”
“Eleanor.” My grandfather raised his finger to me. “Shut up and listen.”
Grinding down my molars, I rolled my eyes and did as I was told.
“This is Aleksander Novikov. He’s your new lawyer.” My grandfather motioned to the man sitting beside him with the dented black phone. “I have fired the other.”
“Good. The other one sucked ass.” I shrugged.
My grandfather rolled his eyes.
Aleksander placed down a stack of papers and slid them through the crack at the bottom of the thick glass. He leaned toward the phone and smiled at me.
He looked nice. Professional. His gray suit didn’t have a single wrinkle, and the gold stars on his cufflinks told me all I needed to know about trusting the man. He was one of us.
“What are these?” I asked, taking the papers and flipping through the large stack.
“Files, evidence, court dates.” Aleksander flipped through his notebook and jotted down something with his little pen. “A few other things on page twenty-two that might be of interest to you.”
I glanced between the two men before flipping to the twenty-second page.
My fingers curled the end of the pages when multiple photographs of Quinntessa in black and white appeared.
I glanced around us at the hovering guards and other inmates, bending over to hide the pictures from the security cameras.
“When were these taken?” I asked, looking up at my grandfather. “It’s…It’s Valentine’s Day in a few weeks.”
“Don’t worry about that.” The man winked at me. “I told you I’d reward you for exterminating the rat.”
“Bernard?” I cluelessly asked.
Grandfather chuckled. He rubbed his chin and nodded softly.
“Your father.” He reached out and touched the glass. “And for that, she lives. You did as you were told, and Estelle and Miss Daws?—”
“Quinntessa,” I breathed, touching his palm on the glass.
“Quinntessa is being looked out for. You have made me proud. Now you have nothing to worry about,” Grandfather reassured me. “Let’s talk about your sentencing. Your trial is coming, and you’ll need to clean yourself up.”
“Do you see where I am?” I asked.
My grandfather sent me a sharp look. I knew he hated my attitude, but the silver plate in the back of my cell wasn’t exactly what I wanted to look in every morning to see if my roots had grown uncontrollably.
“Dedushka, I need to dye my hair back,” I insisted.
The man pursed his lips. His face pretty much told me if I was getting hair dye or not.
I doubt they’d even let me have anything in here.
There were hairdressers on the inside, if they allowed me into the yards.
Although I preferred not to let bitches get near my neck with scissors, I didn’t want to see my kid looking like this.
“We’re going to get you out of here, one way or the other, but for now, you need to pull through it.” Aleksander leaned into the phone. “You’re going to need to make some friends. Fast. You have anyone you can trust?”
I leaned back in my chair and scoffed. “I’m not even allowed outside.” My shoulders slumped. “They won’t put me in gen pop. I’m a risk.”
“It’s for the best right now.” My grandfather tapped the glass and smiled at me. “Your mother wants you safe. I’m keeping you safe. In a few weeks, things will change.”
“Can you make them give me another blanket?” I requested. “Pull some strings?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He shot me a look, trailing his eyes back to his hand. “But I need you to be safe. When you get into gen pop, look for Rasha. She’ll introduce you to your family. You are their leader now, child. You take care of your family.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
The tip of my finger swirled over a picture of Quinntessa leaning against her car in the school parking lot.
She was in her football uniform. The picture was black and white, but I could still see the bags under her eyes.
She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t even looking up at Christian as he talked to her and Jazz.
“Is she okay? Did she get my letters?” I asked, chewing my lip as I observed how these photos captured every great angle of her.
Aleksander and my grandfather exchanged a look.
“I don’t know,” the latter answered.
My knee bounced under the table. I crossed my arms and scoffed when my grandfather shook his head.
“About the letters I wrote her, or if she’s doing okay?” I gritted my teeth.
Dedushka leaned forward and placed his entire hand on the glass. He gave me a small smile, his forehead pressing into the barrier between us.
“Ask her yourself when you get out.”
“And when will that be?” I asked, my nose twitching with irritation. “A week? Three?”
Aleksander chuckled. “Don’t count on it.” He closed his briefcase. “It’s called time for a reason, Miss Harrekson. Best you can do is take control to protect yourself and fuck everyone else.”
“Great advice.” I forced a smile.
Slamming back in my chair, I ripped the pictures of Quinntessa out of the packet of papers. I held it close to my chest and grumbled under my breath.