Page 18 of On Your Life

I can’t help but smile at the fact that she will get to be reminded of our night together every time she looks at it.

I exit the bathroom and leave her to decide how her morning will go. She can either get up and get dressed now, or enjoy her time in solitary for missing count. I hope it’s the latter.

Chapter 10

Kira

My lungs feel heavy. It feels like I’m breathing fire every time my lungs expand, each breath scraping painfully against my chest.

This wasn’t just someone with a dislike for me because I’m accused of killing his friend. He actually wants to hurt me.

The jumpsuit is an unexpected comfort after laying on the cold floor all night. My joints ache from the position I was forced into. Every muscle is stiff and sore from being held there for hours.

What am I going to do?

I run up the stairs and into my cell without looking for my perpetrator. The desire to see his face after what I endured is nonexistent. I don’t want to know where he is or whether he’s watching me.

Helplessness like I have never known creeps into my mind making it harder and harder to breathe. In the outside world, I would call the police. I would hide in my house and look through the blinds all day until I inevitably had to go to work. The drive there would be filled with glances in my review mirror to make sure that I wasn’t being followed, that he couldn’t hurt me again.

Instead, I’m locked in a cage with the equivalent of a bloodthirsty animal with no end in sight.

The thought of my job sends an ache straight through my chest. My coworkers are the ones that told the investigating officers that they saw me leave with my supposed victim.

I have worked at that shit bar for the past few years and thought that I had a decent relationship with everyone. I never went out of my way to make friends but that’s because they were toxic people with toxic lives.

The guy I usually worked the bar with flirted with me endlessly until I had finally had enough and went to management about it. I had to threaten a sexual harassment lawsuit just to get them to tell the guy to back the fuck off.

That’s not enough of a reason to accuse me of a murder that I didn’t commit though, is it?

The lights flicker on as I’m going through every negative interaction that I’ve ever encountered at the bar—angry drunks that I cut off, ex-flings that quit working there because they couldn’t stand being around me, my old ass manager that loved to favor the men. The list goes on and on. The shitty part is, it could be anyone.

“Count!” someone yells.

Something steels inside me as I walk toward the door. I am not weak. There isn’t a man alive that could intimidate me because if my mom taught me anything, it’s how to fight back.

Maxie stands at my side grinning widely in greeting. Her hair is perfectly styled like she didn’t just roll out of bed. I cannot even imagine the state of myself right now. Wetness cools my back from my soaking hair and rage claws at my insides.

If he wants to make my life a living hell, then fine. But I will not go down without a fight.

***

“Maxie?” I call into her room.

“Come on in!” she says.

Her room is identical to mine except the bottom bunk is occupied with the bedroll. The top bunk is lined with an array of shampoos and conditioners. Snacks are organized by product and everything is expertly arranged. I try to contain the brain-gasm I’m having at the sight of it.

I walk over to the metal stool and take a seat. My nailbeds hurt from biting them so much but I do it anyway, worrying at the skin around my nails until I finally force myself to stop.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

“Do you know how to report a guard?”

The question seems to shock her.

“Why would you ever want to do that?” she questions, like she hasn’t heard that bastard tormenting me for days.

I’m not entirely sure if I should go in-depth. Not only is it embarrassing, but it’s also a vulnerability I didn’t want to show in a place like this.