Chapter 49
“You sure about this?” Griff slides me the broken shard of mirror and I rip the sleeve off one of my tees and wrap enough of it up so I can grip it.
“I’m sure.” I nod, looking at my scuffed-up knuckles and hoping the next son of a bitch that comes at me is gonna bring some heat. I’m almost starting to feel like no one in here wants me dead.
It’s ironic that for months I’ve been slowly feelin’ the life drain outta me. All it took was locking me in a state prison with a shit ton of enemies to make me feel more alive than ever. Everyone here wants a round with Jimmer Carson, and I like the sense of power that comes over me when I give ‘em what they want.
“This one’s gonna be different, Jimmer, it ain’t a one-on-one. Dyer has been cussin’ your name for years.”
“I know.” I try to stay focused because I know that this is it. Dyer has been in solitary since I arrived, the guards have done their best to keep us apart but this morning he laid down a challenge, and I’ve never been one to back down from one of those.
“I should come with you, Dyer has a lot of men in here.” Griff is 6ft 6 and his shoulders are too wide to fit through a door. If I had any intention of surviving this, he’d be handy. But I’m doing this alone, and I’m ready for the outcome of it.
“Make sure Jessie gets this.” I hand him the letter that I wrote last night, then gripping the makeshift blade in my hand, I shove it up my sleeve to hide it from the guards.
“You got anythin’ else you want me to tell him?” Griff asks just as I’m about to leave. I look out the barred window at the blue skies, then to the picture I got of both my girls and my grandbabies stuck next to my cot.
“Yeah, tell him today was a good day to die.” I smile at him before heading down the corridor.
There’s a tingle in my blood and adrenaline pumping through my veins as the other prisoners watch me pass ‘em. Some look at me with disdain, others with respect, but I guess none of that will matter where I’m going. There’s only one man who’s gonna judge me there.
I make it to the shower room where Dyer told me he’d be waiting, and when I see him standing there with three of his men behind him, I can tell from the look on his face that he wants me dead.
“You killed my brother.” He glares at me.
“He broke my rules.” I shrug back at him casually, knowing how much it’ll wind him up. Wesley Dyer’s life was easy to take, he was selling meth to kids who went to school with Hayley. And he’s just one of many who had to learn the hard way over the years that I’ve been running Manitou Springs.
“Well, this is for him.” He sends his men forward, and I look over my shoulder and see three others come at me from behind. I don’t care that I’m outnumbered. I won’t go down without a fight. Each of these men will bear a permanent scar for sending me to wherever I’m going. I pull my weapon and slice it at the first one that comes at me. I don’t get a chance to see where I got him because I get grabbed from behind and held so the fists can keep coming at me. I keep hold of my weapon and kick my legs, surprised at how much strength I manage to pull together as I wiggle myself free. Hits keep coming at me from all angles. And not just from fists. I hear metal clanking when it hits the tiles, and blood smears the floor making it slippery. A left jab comes from behind me into my ribs and I look at the smug smile Dyer has on his face as he rests against the shower wall and watches. That”s when I feel all that adrenaline inside me really kick in. I fight back hard, not for my life, but to get to him. I take blow after blow from the men attacking me, I feel my skin slice open, but I keep on working to get to him. I manage to get a good punch on one man, knocking him off his feet, and that gives me ground to rush toward Dyer. The force of determination allows me to get close enough to stab the broken point of the mirror I’m still clinging to straight at his eye socket, then I shove his face into the faucet beside him, forcing it on through to the back of his skull. He flops to the floor and I turn around, throwing my fists at whoever”s coming for me until I get taken to the ground myself. My flesh stings as it gets torn open, and I give ‘em the best I got till I can’t feel no more. I don’t know how long I held ‘em off for before my limbs stopped working. And it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I leave this world exactly how I was supposed to. I close my eyes and focus, wondering what comes next and how I’ll be judged. Everything is black now, the grunts of men fighting and the pounding of their fists are silent. And in that silence, I find something I can focus on. It’s distant to start with but it gets louder and sweeter. It’s an innocent laughter that I recognize and when I open my eyes again, I see my daughter standing in front of me with a smile on her face and her hand held out. I feel no more pain as I step toward her, taking her hand in mine and letting her lead me forward.
The light ahead of us is blinding, but I face it, and I don’t look back.
I guess I got judged right, after all.