Amelia

The walls of this cell are closing in around me. I need to get out of here. I need to be at the hospital with Carson, far, far away from this wretched place.

Everyone keeps staring at me, watching me, wondering what my story is. I don’t have a story. It was all a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I need to get out of here.

The buzzer on the door sounds, and then several women dressed in white walk in, carrying trays of food and pitchers of what looks like tea. I don’t want to eat. I’m not the least bit hungry.

“Come on, honey, you need to feed that baby,” an elderly lady in the bunk next to me says, her gravelly voice sending chills down my spine. She sounds like she spent the last twenty years or so smoking at least a pack a day, if not more.

“I’m not hungry.” I reply, rolling over.

“That don’t really matter to that baby, now does it? He’s hungry, whether you are or not.”

“She,” I say, sitting up on the bed.

“A girl? Well then, let’s feed that little girl before those pigs eat all the scraps.”

I stand and let the woman pull me to the tables set up in the center of the room, ignoring all the stares around me as we go. The closer I get to the table, the more of the food I can smell. My stomach lets out a low rumble as I sit down at the table.

All conversation has stopped around the table while I sit there watching and waiting for some type of direction. I’ve never been to jail before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and what I’m not supposed to do. All I know is what I’ve seen on television, and right now, I’m really hoping that stuff isn’t true, because I don’t want to be shanked or raped, and I damn sure don’t want to join a gang to survive.

“What the hell you waiting on, Sue? Pass the girl a plate.” The elderly lady speaks first, and I jump then try to cover it up by rubbing my hands along my arms.

“Yes ma’am, Momma,” the girl named Sue replies and then passes me a plate. As soon as the plate is set in front of me, the room comes back to life, like a switch has been flicked. It’s almost like I’ve been tried and weighed and found worthy and now I’m welcome here. I don’t feel like an outcast anymore, awaiting my hanging. I feel comfortable. It’s not home, but at least the muscles in my back are relaxing, and I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I won’t be murdered in my sleep.

“Thank you,” I whisper to my rescuer.

“Anytime. I was once a newbie like you. It was so long ago that I can barely remember it.”

“This isn’t your first time?”

“Lord heavens, no.” She laughs, and it sounds like the earth has been ripped open, harsh and rough. “I practically live here, dear.”

“Why?” I ask and then immediately apologize.

“Don’t apologize, dear. I’ve made my choices in life, both good and bad, and I live by them. Now why don’t you tell me what brought you here?”

For some reason, I feel the need to open up to her. I want someone to talk to about the shit storm I’ve been flung into the last twenty-four hours. Or better yet, the last week since I ran into Cal. I need an outsider’s opinion. So I pour it all out. I spill every single detail to her, and then I sit there on the palms of my hands, rocking back and forth while I wait for her to say something.

Anything.

“Sounds like you have some pretty hard decisions to make really quickly.”

“That’s it? That all you have to say?”

“Well, what did you want me to say? Only you know your heart, and only you know what’s best for you and your family. I can’t tell you what to do. You already know what to do. The hard part is doing it.”

When she finishes, she stands and takes her tray to the bin by the door and dumps it. Then she walks back to her bunk and crawls in the bed, pulling the cover up tight. She rolls over and closes her eyes, leaving me alone to ponder her words and the meaning behind them.

Do I already know the right thing to do? It seems like my life has been nothing but complete chaos since Cal re-entered it, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the easiest thing to do would be to push him out. Look at everything that has happened because of him. I’m sitting in freaking jail, for Christ’s sake, and if that detective can be believed, then I’m just one court date away from losing custody of Carson.

I can’t let him be raised in the system, and my mother isn’t going to be any help at all. I need to put as much distance between me and Callum Johnson as possible.