Page 82 of Condemned Soul

“It’s natural for you to feel guilt,” she assures me.

“Nothin’ about this is natural.” It’s unfair that he should have to sacrifice himself when Cliff Adams is out there. I wanna find the fucker and make him suffer for causing all this, but Prez told me yesterday that we have to let it go and leave it up to Wrath. Jimmer doesn’t want Cliff to be a Colorado problem, and I don’t know what that man ever did to his own son, but Jimmer is adamant that he gets his closure.

“No, but we’ll all find a way through it. And I know it sounds crazy, but a tree house is a great way to start.” She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs contently, I’ve never been a man who had much time for prayers, but as I hold both my girls in my arms, I thank God for Jimmer Carson.

“Interesting reading material.” Katrine drops the porn magazine she has in her hand back onto my cot as I step into my cell after exercise, it’s strange having no other prisoners here. None that I know about, anyway. The guards make decent enough conversation. They don’t seem judgmental or above their station, some of ‘em even act a little intimidated around me.

“It was a gift. Feel free to borrow it if ya want.” I smirk as I pass her, making myself comfortable on my cot, and when she turns to face me, I can tell she’s gonna lay something heavy on me.

“How’s that confession comin’?” her eyes glance at the file she gave me on the first day I arrived. The one that’s still empty.

“Well, it’s hard to put over thirty years of crime into words,” I admit sarcastically, and the tiny smile she makes doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re gettin’ pressured, ain’t ya?” It’s strange that I barely know this woman and yet already I don’t like to see her hurting.

“I’m always getting pressured, it comes with the job.” She shrugs.

“Yet you like it.”

“I love my job, it feels good, and most of the time it feels good to make a difference.” She sits on the edge of my cot and crosses her hands over her knees, lowering her head like she has a lot on her mind.

“Most of the time?” I repeat her words back at her.

“This doesn’t feel good,” she admits, turning her head to let me see the sadness on her face.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, you’re?—”

“Is this real?” She cuts me off and I’m surprised by the vulnerability in her eyes.

“Is what real?” I frown

“What I’m feeling, what we have between us.”

“It’s very fuckin’ real, darlin’, which is why we have to try and switch it off. Ain’t like it can go nowhere.” I hate how much saying it hurts, but I also know that nothing good ever came from me giving my heart away.

“Does that make you sad?” she asks, making me wanna scoop her up in my arms and give her some reassurance.

“Yeah, it makes me real fuckin’ sad.” I give her the truth, instead.

“You saved me,” she whispers the words so quietly I almost miss ‘em.

“What did you say?” I lean closer.

“You wanted to know why I was helping you, and that's the reason. You saved me,” she tells me again, this time a little louder, and with much more confidence.

Noting how confused I am, she takes a deep breath before she explains.

“Back when I was at college, I went through the rebellious stage that everybody does. My mom died just after I graduated high school and my dad was too busy with his new family to care about me. I was grieving and trying hard to fit in, all at the same time.” Her hands are actually shaking and I place mine over the top of them to make them stop.

“The girl I shared a room with was so loud and confident, she was always going to parties, getting drunk, and getting laid. She had an uncle who was always inviting us to his place too. Jodie preferred his parties to the ones they had on campus. The boys there were older, and the drugs were free. I went with her a few times, and I always ended up getting so high that I forgot I was hurting. The world seemed so much better when I wasn’t worrying about getting good grades or thinking about all the things I’d never do with my mom. Sometimes we’d get so out of it, I’d forget how we got home.” I can sense something bad is coming when she takes another long, deep breath. “One night I woke up at the house, and Jodie’s uncle was on top of me. He was rubbing himself up against me, his cock was out and I could feel it, touching against my bare skin.” Tears start to leak from her eyes as she recalls the memory and I suddenly wish I wasn’t locked in this place so I could make whoever it was that did this repent his fuckin’ sins.

“I was sure he was gonna rape me. I tried to push him off me but he was too strong. I told him no but he wouldn’t listen, and then I heard this big, loud bang and it was over.” She shakes her head as if she’s reliving every detail of her ordeal. “My ears were ringing and there was so much blood. I was trapped under his body and I remember the window beside the bed had chunks of his brain stuck to the glass. My throat hurt from screaming and when the weight of his body got ripped off me… I saw you.” Her big, blue eyes fix on mine, and suddenly I fuckin’ remember the scared, teenage girl from all those years ago.

“You put your gun away and you wrapped me up in the comforter that was on the floor. Then you held me. There were more gunshots, the house was being turned upside down with chaos. But you kept me in your arms.

‘It’s gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.,’ you whispered over and over again. You were so calm and so strong. You killed that man and you saved me,” she tells me again, and when I let my mind go back to that time, years ago, I remember it all.

“And that’s why you're helpin’ me.” It all makes sense now.

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