Page 8 of Redemption

When I opened the door and he turned around, my pulse thudded to a stop. I gasped, dropping the mug of coffee and spilling it all over the porch. It splashed up my bare legs but I didn’t notice the sting.

He was as surprised as me, his sky-blue eyes wide. His red lips formed a stunned O. He gave me a once over, settling on breasts which I now realized were not being held prisoner by a bra as they normally would be.

He snapped out of it and clearedhis throat.

“Uh, hey, Katarina.” His voice was deep, too deep. Deeper than I remembered.

Rage vibrated through me, unlike anything I’d felt before.

How dare he.

How fuckingdarehe turn up here aftereverything.

The lack of sleep, the grief and the anger at seeing this asshole on my porch sent me spiralling.

“You motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill you!” I screamed, right before I launched myself at him.

CHAPTER THREE

Jack

“Happy release day, dickweed,” the guard grunted.

The buzzer went off and the metal-grinding, nerve-shredding, all-too-familiar sound of my cell door opening had me quaking at the knees a little.

Finally, the day was here.

It was over.

I nearly sobbed but I needed to keep it together until I was on my own,trulyon my own for the first time in twelve years.

The guard led me down the corridor, other inmates jeered at me, but I ignored them. I never had to see them again. Never had to go through this again and that knowledge alone had me feeling on top ofthe fucking world.

Processing took forever. Then they gave me back my possessions. The leather jacket I never thought I’d see again. The old cell phone that was probably way too out-of-date technology-wise and had died anyway. Even an old Nokia would have struggled to keep its juice for twelve years. Old jeans, t-shirt and boots. I changed, feeling weird about putting my old clothes back on, clothes that were a little too tight now and held too many bad memories, but I didn’t really have a choice.

And then I was outside. The sun shone down, and I thought I would have this overwhelming moment ofFREEDOM!Braveheart-style but I didn’t. I was relieved, sure, but there was so much uncertainty about what came next. There was a bus to take me to the accommodation that the charity set up. I’d been given my allowance to tide me over until I could find some work.

I snorted at the thought. I would struggle to find work; especially in Reverence where everyone would know what I’d done. The prison sentence didn’t end when the gates opened to free me. It would last a lifetime.

There was only me and one other person on the bus and I did not want to make friends. We kept to ourselves and were dropped off outside the accommodation. It was a crumbling building, not much to look at and neither was the room. From one set of four walls to another, with the same rules. No drugs, no drinking, no fighting, no women.

But I was grateful. I dumped my bag on the bed, an old box spring which creaked and looked too small for my large frame. There were some suspicious stains on the mattress which I chose to ignore.

I paced, not knowing what to do. I was out. The world was my oyster. But there was only one thing I wanted todo. Find out what happened to my friend. The one person who visited me during my time in prison. God knows my parents didn’t. They abandoned me after the accident, washed their hands of me, screaming at me during my sentencing in court that they wished I’d never been born. At first I was bitter but they did me a favor.

Someone did care though, and I hadn’t seen him for two months and I’d had no letters from him which worried me. I grabbed my jacket, locked up my new room and went out. I didn’t have to ask permission, didn’t have to check in with anyone until my parole officer tomorrow. I left the halfway house and headed straight for Redemption Ranch to see what had happened to Charlie Cartwright.

*

11 years ago…

Wyoming State Penitentiary

“Why the fuck is he here and why the fuck does he keep coming back?” I shouted, slamming a fist against the wall.

“Don’t make me give you a warning,” the guard, Patrick, stated at my uncharacteristic outburst. Me and Patrick had come to an understanding after my first year here. He took pity on me, knew I wasn’t going to act out like other inmates and just wanted a quiet life.

“Look, you might as well see him. He’s turned up every month to see you for a year. Just hear him out, it’s the least you fucking owe him.”

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