Page 52 of Freedom to Love

“I’m no rat,” she said. She stared into the mirror with a hard set to her jaw.

Brynn sighed. “What are you being charged with?”

Bea rolled her eyes. “A lot. But they’re dropping some of it because of what we did for Sergeant Vander and her partner. I guess he’s doing better so that helps.”

“Bea, you have to give them more. Something they can use so you won’t go to jail. This is your life.”

“I won’t, Brynn. I can’t. Can’t you do something? Say something?” She looked desperate, like a wild-eyed animal caught in a trap.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Tell them you told me to run. Tell them that I’m an addict. That I can’t help myself.”

“They can hear everything we’re saying, Bea.”

She sat back and banged her hand on the table. “Then fuck this. And fuck them.”

Brynn shook her head, desperately trying to reach her. “Bea, it’s all up to you this time. I’ll say what I can, but this time it is solely on you.”

Bea chewed off the tip of a fingernail and spit. Her eyes narrowed. “That cop, the one who arrested me, he scared me. It was self-defense. And the heroin…”

“Drugs? You got caught with drugs?”

Bea scoffed and looked away.

“Bea?”

“Don’t start, Brynn.” She started in on another nail, spit it across the room, and then shoved the sleeves up on her sweatshirt. Brynn recoiled at the sight of bruised inner elbows and various needle marks.

“Oh, Jesus.” Brynn felt dizzy, nauseous. Who was this woman sitting across from her? They couldn’t possibly be blood related. Bea couldn’t possibly have been raised by her.

“What?” Bea glanced at her own arms and then grinned. “This bother you? You always were the chicken shit.”

“Bea, why?” She wanted to plead with her, grab her and shake her, fall to her feet and cry.

“Why not? I mean, you really ought to get that stick out of your ass and have a little fun, Brynn. You have no idea how good it feels.”

Brynn felt her own jaw tighten and rage began to boil her blood. “I guess I’ve been too busy taking care of your ass, going to prison for you, protecting you, feeding you, clothing you, keeping a roof over your head. I guess I’ve been too busy making sure you survive to worry about having fun with drugs.”

Bea stared at her with steely eyes. “That supposed to make me feel guilty or something?” She rolled her eyes.

Brynn had had enough. Tears gnawed at her throat and she was so angry she wanted to flip the table. Instead, she stood. “No. I don’t expect you to feel anything. Not anymore.”

She stepped to the door, heard a buzz, and then saw Kat pull it open.

“You okay?” Kat whispered.

Bea laughed. “Oh, so this is classic. You desert me and you’re all cozy with the cop? Beautiful, Brynn. Beautiful.”

“Enjoy prison, Bea.” She studied her long and hard. Bea would get beaten at first, yes, but then, honestly, she’d fit right in. Probably even help run the drugs. She belonged there, and Brynn had to finally accept it. “Somehow I know you will.” She walked through the door past Kat and headed for the front where she’d come in. Behind her, she heard Bea yelling at her as she was being walked to holding. But Brynn didn’t turn around. She was done. She was finally and completely done. Tears racked her body, but she swallowed them down and wiped her eyes. She refused to cry. Not anymore, not for Bea.

She stopped at the door where the officer had buzzed her in. She breathed deeply.

Someone touched her shoulder from behind. Brynn turned and found Kat looking at her with the most understanding look she’d ever seen. She fell into her arms.

“I’ll speak to the D.A,” she said, holding her tightly.

Brynn shuddered as she battled her tears. “No, don’t. She gets what she gets.”

Kat pulled away. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I’m done, Kat. I’m done. She belongs in prison.”

Kat held her again. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Brynn pushed away and wiped her face. “No, I need to be alone. I just want to be alone.”

“But, Brynn, it’s the middle of the night.”

She left Kat standing as she walked through first one door and then the other, out into the humid night. She crossed the slick street and headed for the overgrown grassy shoulder. She need to walk, to cry, to think. And she needed to do it all on her own.

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