Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
When I’d refused to give her any money—I had a kid to raise and didn’t have the money to spare—she’d lost her shit.
Which led us to the day that I’d “killed” two officers.
“What do you remember?” I asked.
She swallowed hard. “Everything.”
“Tell me,” I begged.
“I was sick. I called you to come get me. Except, you never came. Mom showed up, and I went with her. I know it was stupid. But she said she’d take me to urgent care. I thought…what could it hurt? She could even pay. Except, we never made it to urgent care. She purposefully hit that building and those officers, Justin. I saw her do it. She smiled at me evilly, then slammed into the building. I heard a groan that didn’t come from me, and that’s when I looked back and saw you in the back seat. You were on the floor in between the seats, rolled up in a blanket, Justin. You didn’t hit anyone.”
The other question was, how had she gotten the jump on me?
That might be something I’d never know.
“But you were hurt really bad. How did that happen?” I asked. “If you were aware enough to see that happen?”
Her eyes were stricken. “Mom. She slammed my head into the dash when I was looking at you. I don’t remember anything after that.”
My stomach lurched. “She did?”
She nodded her head. “I’m sorry that I didn’t remember until now.”
I wished I wasn’t speaking to her through plexiglass. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up into my arms and pretend like everything would be okay. At least for a little bit.
“I’m going to go to the cops with this,” she promised. “I’m going to get you out.”
Except she wouldn’t.
Mom would fuck and blackmail whoever she had to to make sure that I never got out.
I was exactly where she wanted me, rotting away in the place that was going to take pieces of my soul until there was nothing left.
“I love you, Bernie,” I said. “It’s okay.”
She stood up, a look of fierce determination on her face. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”
Ten years later
Every single avenue of appeal and mistrial had been exhausted.
There was nothing left to do but live the rest of my life in this six-by-six cell.
I stared up at the springs of my bunkmate’s bunk and said, “Looks like you get to keep me, man.”
The bedsprings groaned as he twisted so that he could look at me below him, his shaggy hair falling free of his face as he did.
“I wish it’d worked.”
I wasn’t surprised it hadn’t.
Bernice had spent almost her entire life trying to get me free, and it was time to stop.
I wanted her to live her life, and I didn’t think she would stop unless I asked her to.
“I asked her to stop,” I said softly.
“You should have,” Bryce murmured. “She’s wasting her life.”
She was.
At twenty-eight, my sister had barely lived her life.
She went through the motions, sure.
But she ate, slept, and breathed trying to get me free.
This was our last-ditch effort.
And even though I knew it wouldn’t work, I’d allowed her to try.
But no more.
I…
“Arquette.”
I looked up to see a guard at the bars staring at me intently. “Yes?”
“You have a visitor,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.”
I went, though it wasn’t like I really got much choice where I was at.
I did what they wanted, when they wanted, or I went into solitary.
Well, I only went into solitary after they beat the piss out of me.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Who is it?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t my sister.
Though, my sister wouldn’t have gotten the pull to visit with me outside of visiting hours.
He didn’t answer, and instead continued to walk with purpose through a maze of hallways.
When we passed the room where we normally met with visitors, my heart started to pound.
This wasn’t right…
“In here.”
I paused, hesitating on the threshold.
I didn’t want to go into that room.
I had a feeling if I did, my life would get harder.
Except, when I hesitated, he shoved me in using his baton straight to my back.
I gritted my teeth and moved forward.
It was either that or get the shit beat out of me again, and I was barely healed from the last time.
Correctional officers didn’t take kindly to cop killers.
I had so many concussions that sometimes it was hard to come up with the right words.
I was probably going to die of brain damage.
“Justin Arquette,” a rough voice said. “Come have a seat.”
I looked up to find myself staring at a man with salt and pepper hair, steel-gray eyes, and a short, trimmed beard. He was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and motorcycle boots.
I’d never seen him before, but it was more than apparent he knew me with the way his smile grew wide upon the sight of me.