to be gone. I’ve defended and prosecuted him over and over again in my mind, but it all makes no difference to my heart.
I hurt.
And not just because my knight in shining armor didn’t get the memo that that’s what he’s supposed to be. But because it wasn’t just my TV, fridge, and ribs that got shattered, it was also my belief that all of this would work out.
I came here thinking that this would be the safest place for me, but I’ll spend the next eight months here...and for what? I’m not out of reach the way I thought I was. Alpha Bowen hasn’t given up. My situation in Nightmare Penitentiary just got a fuck ton worse. Zen is no longer here to help keep the wolves at bay. The guards are officially out for blood, and the Warden is ready to make my life a living hell.
I finally get the whole nightmare part of Nightmare Penitentiary. And doing something to extend my sentence here like I originally planned means figuring out how to survive all of the bullshit even longer.
No matter how I look at it, the future I wished I could have with Rook is impossible. We can’t be together in here, and Alpha Bowen will make sure that we can’t be together out there either. So maybe it’s a good thing that Rook just stood there, because I clearly needed a wakeup call. Like the Warden said, this is prison, not a vaycay spot.
Another tear spills down my cheek. It free falls to the ground, just to be slowly replaced by another. I’ve accepted my reality, but again, it makes no difference to my heart.
“Inmate 11764, stand up and put your back to the wall.”
Fear lances through me at those words, and I shove away the blanket I’ve cocooned myself with and painfully get to my feet. I press my back against the cinder block wall as my ribs and bruised stomach twinge in protest. I look over to find Sandbag staring at me with both disgust and a gleam of something that makes my skin crawl. His sandy-colored gaze runs down my body and then moves slowly back up my still bare legs.
I suddenly wish I had a suit made of impenetrable metal, as a sick feeling settles in my gut about the thoughts currently swimming in his eyes. He leers at me for a second more, clearly enjoying me being a good little inmate as I keep my body plastered against the wall.
With a smirk, he opens the cell door and walks into the room, and I tense, but he moves to a crumpled pile of gray fabric, picks it up, and then throws the pair of pants at me. I try not to show any relief, not wanting to provoke his inner sadist.
“You have a visitor,” he snarls, and I quickly step into my pants and get dressed, ignoring the pain it causes to move so fast.
I don’t argue. I don’t ask questions. I just silently move to follow him to the visitation room I’ve come to know so well. I didn’t think I’d get visitors when I first landed in here. Dinah swore she’d come visit, but I told her not to. I’d hoped that my parents wouldn’t find out where I was, and I didn’t want her accidentally leading them to me. I guess that was before I had to move up my timeline and improvise, though.
Sandbag gestures for me to go first, and I’m even more leery of putting him at my back, but I don’t really have a choice. I keep alert for threats or any hint that I’m being taken somewhere else. For the first time since I started to serve my sentence, I’m relieved when we stop outside the door marked Visitor Room with the peephole hatch in it. Sandbag opens it, and I step into the room and find a very angry looking mat staring at me from the other side of the plexiglass.
Sandbag shoves me further into the room, deciding I’m not moving fast enough for him, and slams the door shut behind me. I wonder if mat will give him a bonus for roughing me up. Probably.
I sit gingerly in the metal chair and try not to wince when I reach over for the phone receiver, though my entire side feels like it’s on fire.
My mat already has her handset gripped in a white knuckle hold and pressed to her ear. I barely pick