Page 2 of All Our Ghosts

Janice hands me the packet of care instructions and a bag of prescription meds and grins in the rear-view mirror, one hand waving out of the window as she drives off.

“As always, good to see you, Mom,” I mutter, watching the car disappear down the road.

I turn around towards the two-story, white townhome. I dread walking through that blue door, not ready to face the reality of my life from here on out. People talk about skeletons being hidden behind closet doors. Those people are lucky. Closets aresmall, confined, and the skeletons contained. I have a whole townhome full of skeletons and secrets; so much so that it feels like they ooze from the walls at times.

I push open the door to be greeted by a mess only a tornado could make. Picture frames lie in pieces on the floor. Tiny shards of glass stick up from the thick carpet. The dinner I had made is splattered onto the wall and stains the carpet below. I set the items in my hands down on the table in the entryway. Tears sting my eyes.

It was never supposed to be like this.

Love is never supposed to be like this.

I make my way up the stairs, gripping tightly onto the wooden railing that clings to the narrow hallway. The grief slowly creeps in with every step. The hallway is dark, lit only by the small, blue-and-teal stained-glass window at the other end, its halo falling onto the only closed door to the room I’m terrified to walk into. One that I’m not allowed to be in without him.

Jeremy has controlled every aspect of my life except for the one thing I would not budge on. My home. The very first big purchase of my own and I refused to let him take it from me. I remember the fight we’d had about it. I also remember having to buy four different kinds of concealer to try and hide the bruise under my eye. When he’d apologized, if I can even call it that, he’d promised to let me keep the house. He reminded me every day after I found out I was pregnant that he did so, and to appease his incessant reminders, I told him he could choose the nursery theme. He’d ordered and bought everything you could think of that an infant could need, only letting me in the room when he was home, and for a while, the fighting and the temper had stopped.

I thought things had changed.

My fingers wrap around the metal doorknob, freezing for a moment, almost expecting an open palm to the back of myhead for even thinking about touching it. It doesn’t come so I twist the handle, pushing open the door and letting the stream of sunshine light up the pale blue and yellow features. It illuminates the small safari animals painted on the walls; their eyes watchful and full of disappointment.

I feel tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I pick up a small stuffed giraffe with button eyes. It’s the only thing I had been allowed to pick out for the room. I hug it to my chest, setting myself down into the rocking chair housed in the corner. Every raging emotion I willed myself to hold in while in the hospital finally begins to spill over. It feels like someone turned on the faucet and set my cup under the tap to let it flow.

This isn’t a home anymore and the longer I sit, the more I realize that it hasn’t been a home for a while. It will never be my home again.

HOLDEN

July | Stockton State Prison, Stockton, CA

“It’s your lucky day, Nash.” Jones smirks, handing me the bag of belongings I came into this hell hole with. “Say, Jenkins, how long do you think before we see soldier boy back here again?” He jests, nudging the officer standing next to him.

Jenkins grins, shaking his head. “Shit, with his temper? I give it a week.”

You’ve never seen my temper, dumbass,I think.

I fake a smile at them both. The two of them have been giving me shit for the past eighteen months, something I’ve had to bite my tongue on to keep my head low, for Cole’s sake. I slip my rings onto my fingers, raising a brow at the two dipshits laughing in front of me. I spent ten years in the military, dealing with the God complexes of almost all of my commanding officers. These two were child’s play compared to them and my tour in Iraq.

“As much as I’d love to stick around and watch the two of you fuck each other in the showers, I’ve got places to be,” I taunt as I shrug into my sleeveless leather cut.

The two officers go quiet, both staring daggers at me. It seems like I’ve hit a sore spot, making me smirk.

“You think you’re fucking funny, Nash?” Jones steps forward, nose to my…chin. It's kind of hard to intimidate a man who’s a good six inches taller than you. I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back a laugh as Jones’ shit-brown eyes glare at me.

“Nah, Jonesy. I think I’m adorable.” My lips pucker and make little kissing noises at the officer.

“ALL RELEASEES PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE FRONT GATE. ALL RELEASEES PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE FRONT GATE.”

I snort at the voice coming over the intercom. “Saved by the bell, Jonesy!” I pick up the rest of my belongings, clipping my wallet to the belt loop of my jeans and stuffing it into my pocket before turning and making my way down the long corridor.

“See you soon, Nash!” Jenkins laughs.

“Only in your dreams, asshole!”

I knock on the glass at the end of the hallway; the cute blonde-haired officer looks up for a moment before grinning. A loud buzz from above me sounds like freedom as I push the door open, throwing her a wink before letting the door slam behind me.

The scorching heat beats down on the back of my neck. I can already feel it turning the slightest bit pink following the long maze of chain-link fences and guard towers. The excitement and adrenaline begin rushing through me as I realize this is what going home feels like.

At the end of the fences another buzz sounds as the metal gate begins to slide against the pavement. Weathered black motorcycle boots take a step forward onto new ground, ground I haven’t had the luxury of walking for over a year. A deep heavy breath leaves my lips and for the first time in forever the smellof sweat, body odor, and ass doesn’t flood my nose. It almost makes me cry.

“Nash!”

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