Page 47 of Ashgate

“Don’t kid yourself.” The warden leans back in her chair and folds her arms. Her serious face is back. It suits her much better.

“Can I please go back to my unit?” I ask. Flynn eyes me like she’s trying to think of some reason to say no, but after a few moments she shakes her head and reaches for a stack of papers on her desk, dismissing me. I get to my feet just as Jaxon comes in the door to escort me back.

“Keep an eye on her,” Flynn says to Jaxon, her eyes avoiding mine. “She’s an open target now.”

Jaxon nods once and allows me to pass. We walk in silence down the hallway, unspeaking, but his mere presence helps calm my nerves.

“The warden might be onto something, Joey,” Jaxon says finally as we reach my unit. There’s no one around; hopefully they’re all still at breakfast. I stop and lean back against the brick wall, arms folded.

“You think so?”

Jaxon looks away from me as two inmates pass us in the hallway. It’s Deadeye, crawling in from wherever she’d been, and she leers at Mr. Jaxon and me, her one good eye rolling in its socket. Now, Bull is right behind her, and her lips pinch when she spots us, but she doesn’t say anything. Jaxon waits until we’re out of hearing range to speak.

“Why wouldn’t you want the protection if it’s offered to you?” he asks, lowering his voice. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is coming, then shrug.

“If they wanted me, they could get to me. It’s prison, Mr. Jaxon. There’s no such thing as protection. Besides, why do you all think they’ll have anything against me? I did nothing to them.”

“It’s not about what you did, it’s about who you are.” Jaxon shakes his head and looks away. I can see the concern etched on his face, and it’s touching … but I don’t need it.

“Who am I?”

“You’re a young woman who escaped prison and nearly killed her sister,” Jaxon says.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re powerful in here now, Joey, but that could make you a threat to the other women.”

“You mean Veronica?”

“Yeah. To Veronica.”

“Fuck Veronica.” I scoff and fold my arms, glaring as another nosey inmate passes us. “Somebody needs to give her a reality check.”

“That may be so, but nobody says it has to be you.” Jaxon tilts his head a bit, trying to keep that professionalism about him, but his gentle soul is too obvious. He’s a good person, and his heart is in the right place. But he’s wrong. He’s wrong about how he thinks things work in here.

“I’ll be fine in here,” I promise, mostly to get him to shut up. “Just do what you promised me you would do and figure out a way to prove my innocence and get me out of this place.”

“You know I’ll do everything in my power to help you,” Jaxon says. “But I can’t promise anything, Joey. This is a thin line we’re walking.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He turns to leave, then stops and looks at me again. “Keep your head down and lay low. Try not to go anywhere alone.”

Jaxon walks away and I step into my cell, closing the door behind me. I wish there was a lock, but there’s not. All I can do is hope nobody comes in and tries to shank me while I’m alone. I don’t want to be afraid, especially not of Veronica, but deep down, I am. Death is inevitable, but going out at Ronnie’s hand is unacceptable.

I lay down on my bed, hands crossed over my stomach, eyes on the ceiling. I don’t realize until Lace has found me an hour later that I haven’t moved from that spot.

“You have to eat something, Joey,” she says, sitting down on the bed next to me. “You’ve barely eaten since you’ve been back.”

I want to say something to reassure her somehow, to tell her that it’s all okay and she doesn’t have to worry, but I don’t have the energy to. I feel so empty inside, a shell of a person, not really here but not gone yet either.

“Please talk to me,” Lace begs, her fingers trailing down my back. I take a deep breath into my pillow and turn over to face her. She’s not crying, not yet, but her eyes are misty. I can’t take it if she cries.

“Do you ever feel like this is the end?” I ask. “Like no matter what happens from here on out, it will never be good again, so it doesn’t really matter?”

Silence passes over us as Lace considers this. Then, she nods. “Yeah. At least, I used to. Especially before I came here, when I was homeless on the streets. Some nights I laid there in the cold, fucked up out of my mind, but still miserable, you know? Still so hopeless and sad.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” I sit up and pull Lace into me, savoring the warmth of her body against mine. Lace nods, burying her face in my jacket. She’s crying now, and hot tears leak down her cheeks. I wipe them away.

---