Chapter 1
Alayah
Present Day
“Inmates! Fall in line!”
This had been my routine for the last ten years.
Ten years.
That’s how much of my life had been taken for taking the life of my abuser.
It didn’t hardly seem fair. I’d been molested and raped for years, and when I snapped, I was punished.
Overkill, they said. I’d stabbed Rodney a total of twenty-six times.
The prosecutor tried to paint it as a crime of passion.
It was so far from that. If anything, what I did was a hate crime because I hated that bastard.
I didn’t regret taking his life. Doing so saved me and my little sisters from any further or potential abuse. It saved many other little girls like me. My only regret was not doing it sooner.
My thoughts were interrupted by the guard clicking her counter in my face.
She walked past me and finished her count before telling us to follow her.
In a single-file line, we headed for the showers.
Because of the nature of my crime, I’d been placed in a block with violent offenders.
When I first got here, I was terrified. While I wasn’t innocent of a crime, I wasn’t violent.
I didn’t deserve to be held with murderers and child abusers.
For the first couple of weeks, I barely slept.
I was terrified of someone doing something to me in my sleep, even though I was in a single cell and the door was locked.
When I did sleep, I had nightmares about what I had done.
All I could see was the blood. All I could hear were the screams of my sisters.
I hadn’t seen either of them since I’d been locked up.
My mother forbid me to contact them. She refused to accept my calls so I could speak to them.
She had every letter I wrote them returned to me.
The only reason I knew what they looked like was because Aunt Penny and Uncle Clive brought pictures when they came to visit me.
They were the only family I had who truly loved me outside of my sisters.
Aunt Penny was my mother’s older sister.
She and Uncle Clive never had any children, and they loved us like their own.
Kennedy Chambers, my mother, had painted me out to be a monster just like Rodney’s family.
She told everyone I killed Rodney in cold blood.
I was the reason for their trauma. I was the reason she’d lost the love of her life.
The story she went around telling was that I’d been trying to seduce him for the longest, and he refused my advances.
When I couldn’t get what I wanted, I killed him.
My aunt and uncle didn’t believe that for a second.
They had been actively fighting my conviction since I was sentenced.
While I appreciated their efforts, I told them to just give it up.
They’d spent too much time and money trying to bring me home already.
I just had to accept that I was going to spend most of my life behind bars.
There was too much evidence against me and none against Rodney.
At least none that could be found. Prior to his death, it had been at least two weeks since Rodney had penetrated me.
The experts concluded that I wasn’t a virgin, and the vaginal trauma could be from regular intercourse.
I had no defensive wounds. No cuts or bruises to suggest that I’d been attacked.
The only evidence I had were the videos he’d taken of us on occasion over the years.
The thing was, he’d hidden them, and to this day, they had yet to be found.
Aunt Penny said they tore my mother’s house apart looking for the tapes and hadn’t found anything.
Without that key evidence, I was royally fucked.
Ten years I’d been down on voluntary manslaughter charge, and I had twenty to go.
“Chambers, stop lollygagging and bring your ass!” CO Judy yelled.
I hadn’t realized I was walking so slowly behind everyone else. Whenever I thought about my circumstances, I tended to dissociate, no matter where I was.
“I’m sorry,” I said, picking up my pace.
By the time I made it to the showers, the stalls were full.
I waited patiently for my turn. Once inside, I quickly disrobed and slipped on my shower shoes before stepping inside.
Most of the hot water was gone, so it was lukewarm at best. Still, at least it wasn’t cold.
Quickly and diligently, I bathed myself, forgoing washing my hair.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, I was being escorted back to my bunk to put my things away and to wait to be taken to breakfast. I used that time to talk to Carissa, the inmate next door. I sat next to the vent that connected our rooms and spoke softly.
“Good morning, Riss.”
I could hear her shuffling about before I heard her voice. “Hey, Lay. How you doing this morning, baby?”
“Same shit, different day.”
Carissa had been next door since I got here.
She’d looked out for me and made sure none of the other women tried anything with me.
She was an older woman in her fifties and had a lot of influence around here.
She was well respected by the other women, and what she said was law.
I thought of her as the mother figure I needed, and having her on my side had made a world of difference in my time.
“I know that’s right. How did you sleep? I didn’t hear you screaming last night.”
“I slept okay. No recurring nightmares last night.”
“That’s good to hear. Guess what?”
“What?”
“My man is coming to visit me today.”
I smiled. She’d met her boyfriend Eric through the prison pen pal system. For months, they had been writing each other back and forth. It took a while for her to get him on her approved visitation list, but judging by their pending visit, it must have worked out.
“That’s wonderful. I’m sure you’re excited.”
“I am. It’s been a while. I need you to do my hair. I have to make sure I look decent for this visit. I can’t let the first time he sees me, I look dusty.”
I giggled. “You could never be dusty.”
She giggled as well. “Thank you, baby. I keep telling you to get you a pen pal. We have nothing but time on our hands. At least have a little fun. Once I get approved for these conjugal visits, I’m gonna have a whole lot of fun.”
I shook my head as though she could see me. “Dating is the last thing on my mind, Riss. I don’t trust these men as it is. What can we do for each other while I’m in here?”
She huffed. “Use your imagination. Make plans for the future. You won’t be in here forever, you know.”
“I still have twenty years, Riss. Ain’t no future for me when I get out of here. I’ll be lucky to find a job making minimum wage.”
I often thought about what I would do upon release.
I’d gotten my GED a year into my sentence.
I’d also gotten my cosmetology license through the vocational program.
I did a lot of the girls’ hair around here.
It kept them off my back and me on their good side.
Maybe I could get a job at a hair salon.
It had never been my aspiration in life, but it was a useful skill.
I had been on the fast track to a full scholarship to the Black Ivies where I’d planned to major in chemistry and minor in biology.
With my conviction, I’d lost all of that.
Even when I got out, I couldn’t afford to pursue that degree.
What kind of job would I be able to get?
If I took out a student loan, how would I pay it back?
Was forty-seven too late to begin thinking about starting over anyway?
I just didn’t know what I would do. Whatever I did, I knew for certain I didn’t want to be behind these barbwire fences and concrete walls ever again.
“You gotta speak shit into existence, Alayah. Stop being so damn negative. I’ve told you about that.”
I sighed. “I know, I know.”
“You’re a beautiful young woman, baby. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“I don’t trust men, Carissa. I want nothing to do with them.”
“Then get you a lady.”
That made me laugh. “In all the time you’ve known me, have you ever once heard me say I like women?”
“Chile, if you’re in here long enough, you’ll start to wonder. Being behind these walls cut off from the outside world, you miss intimacy. You miss being held and loved. I don’t judge anybody. We’re all just trying to live and survive in here.”
She was right about that. My fight-or-flight responses had kicked it up a notch in here.
I lived in survival mode. I tried to tell myself that if I just made it to see tomorrow, I’d be okay.
I’d been telling myself that since I got here.
Unlike many of the women who came through those doors, I was still here.
I’d seen girls get jumped and beaten to death. I’d seen a few women get shanked and sent to the infirmary. I’d even known a few who couldn’t take it, so they took their lives. While I didn’t have much to live for, I still wanted to live.
“You wanna know what I heard?” Carissa asked, amusement lacing her voice.
“Humor me.”
“My girl Candy…you know how her work duty is assisting the warden, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess who got approved for a parole hearing?”
“Who?”
“You, baby.”
My eyes widened. “What?” I whispered.
Me? Parole?
“The paperwork came through yesterday evening. Don’t tell nobody though. You know these bitches act funny when they think you’re getting out.”
I hadn’t heard much else of what she said.
The fact that she just told me I was approved for a parole hearing was a wild statement.
My aunt and uncle had gotten me a new lawyer about a year ago.
When I met with her, she had me go through the process of filling out the paperwork for a hearing.
I did it with no hope that it would get approved.
I’d all but given up on getting out early, but my aunt and uncle had so much faith in me that I just did it to appease them.
My lawyer, Erica Sawyer, came to see me once a week. I didn’t ask about the progress and told her not to tell me anything unless she had a definite answer. She respected my wishes, and we talked about everything but parole. I’d honestly forgotten about it until Carissa said something.
Leaning against the wall, I took a few deep breaths.
This could change everything. It would be the difference in getting out and starting over or serving another twenty years in this hellhole.