Page 30 of Trading Up
I wanted peace. I wanted to live our best lives. Finding out we were pregnant, getting married, and enjoying every aspect of that, without the fear that she’d seduce someone and escape, was heavenly. The kids, all four of them, helped me in the garden, and it became a sort of therapy for me. It took a while for me to get back out there and tend to it myself. The PTS from that was…killer. It took time. It took Row being there, digging in the dirt next to me, or at least outside with me, for the fear in my mind to start to quiet. It took the boys being with me, laughing and playing in the backyard. It took normalcy for me to find the joy in doing things again.
“All rise!” Row held my hand as we stood. The children were with Row’s parents at our house. This wasn’t a place that kids should be. The prosecutor offered to let them speak, but we said no. We didn’t want them worrying. Heck! They didn’t even know I’d been in the hospital. I wasn’t about to let them know now! There was no use in worrying them over something that had happened so long ago. I tried to focus on Row’s hand in mine, strong, sturdy, dependable. He’d never let me face something like this alone. We were the definition of a team. I chanced a glance at him. His eyes were hard and focusedforward on the judge. I gave his hand a little squeeze, and he looked at me. He leaned his head down, kissing me on the forehead.
We sat, and the judge began to speak, calling up victims for our impact statements. Will went first. He talked about how they first came together, how things were before she thought he was trying to get back together with me. I was hardly paying attention, folding and unfolding, then refolding the letter I wrote to read today. It wasn’t until I heard him say the words “therapy” and “unstable” that I started listening.
“I knew you were diving deeper into your delirium, shortly before the shooting,” I was flabbergasted. He knew she was spiraling and still came to see me that night. How inconsiderate could one man be?! I was shaking when Row took my hand, weaving his fingers through mine.
“Easy. It’s in the past,” he muttered to me, kissing my temple, not letting go of my hand. I just sat there, staring at two people who were strangers. I couldn’t believe that I knew them. It made no sense to me at all. It was finally our turn. We both went up, trying to present as a united front. I nodded to Row, and he began, detailing the night he was shot, his recovery, and how it impacted us mentally. Then he went on to talk about when I was stabbed.
“She may have been someone you deemed a threat to your relationship, but she wasn’t. She wanted nothing more to do with Will or you. She was living her best life with me and our children. You not only almost took my wife from me, but you also almost took our youngest two children. They, along with her, would have been gone from this world had I not phoned the police and neighbors. Your honor, I ask for the maximum, for all charges. I ask that she be locked up in a maximum securityfacility, since she was able to seduce her way out of the secure mental facility.”
He folded up his paper, stepping aside so I could step up to the microphone, but he was still right behind me, a hand on my lower back grounding me.
“Your Honor. I had the unfortunate experience of my ex-husband having an affair with this woman, and when things started to fall apart in their relationship, she needed someone to blame other than herself. She couldn’t seem to grasp that her own actions were responsible for her relationship failure. I had moved on and made that abundantly clear.” I paused, feeling the familiar lump forming in my throat, and tears pricking my eyes. I turned, looking at Paloma for the first time. She wouldn’t even meet my eyes.
“You shot my best friend and man of my dreams, Devereaux. You could have taken him from not only me, but my sons, who had just found someone who wanted to be their father. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, you felt the need to come back and try to kill me, taking me from my husband and our boys. We didn’t know we were pregnant yet, and I can’t imagine how much that would have hurt to hear that not only had Devereaux lost his wife, but he lost his two unborn children, also.” Tears were streaming down my face, but I managed to keep my voice calm. I took a shuddering breath before I continued.
“I hope you’re in prison long enough to rot. It’s where you deserve to be. Caged like the animal you are,” I turned to the judge, “Throw the book at her. She’s proven she’ll continue to go after us. I beg you. For my life and the lives of my family. Throw the book at her. Lock her up and throw away the key. Whatever you need to do to keep us safe, please.” I was folding my papers,Row’s arm around my waist as we walked back to sit on that uncomfortable ass bench. The judge was silent for a moment before speaking.
“Will the defendant please rise?” He paused while she stood, chains around her ankles and wrists, “This court has found you guilty, and I have to say, the blatant lack of remorse and willingness to take any sort of accountability for your actions while you made continuous attempts on the lives of a couple that had clearly moved on with their lives…it’s disturbing. Therefore, you will be confined to a maximum security women’s prison. For one count of attempted murder, this court sentences you to fifteen years. For the two counts of assault with a deadly weapon, this court sentences you to fifteen years for each charge to run consecutively. Meaning, after you finish the first fifteen, your next fifteen will start,” tears filled my eyes, “For the charge of attempted kidnapping,” the judge continued to read off her sentencing, but doing quick math in my head so far, she’d be in her late sixties, or early seventies. I started crying harder. Sobbing, tears of joy, relief, peace. It was finally over.
The nightmare was finally over.
“You will be in jail for the next seventy-five years. I hope that’s enough time for you to think and reflect on your behavior, Miss Jones. Court is adjourned.”
Bang!
Who knew a gavel banging could be such a beautiful sound?
T H I R T Y: Epilogue
Paloma’s POV
It had only been a few months since my sentencing, and things were not going well for me. That was putting it lightly. The women in this prison were some of the worst of the worst. Baby killers, abusers, some of them had murdered their parents or grandparents. These women were brutal, and it was almost as if they were hell bent on making things hard for me. Because things had been rough. So rough that I had spent more time in the medical ward than actually on the cell block serving time.
The women who were locked here, well, there were those who didn’t mess with me and who I tried to make friends with and surround myself with. But, there were more who were in for life, or wouldn’t be up for parole until they were in their seventies and eighties, who didn’t give a shit. Those were the ones I worried about. They were the ones who kept kicking my ass and landing me in the medical ward. I was getting beaten up or sexually assaulted, and the threats that were being made against me weren’t being taken seriously by the guards. After the last beating, I had somehow been placed in solitary confinement and had been here for the last month, hoping that I would be safe from those women.
It felt like someone had paid money for them to target me, specifically. I was being escorted to the showers from the medical ward, where my dressings were just changed, to clean up before I was sent back to solitary. I asked the guard on duty, Lisa, one of the nicer ones, if I could clean up first. She promised to take me, so I could at least wash my hair and give myself a sponge bath of sorts. When we walked in, I saw it was justme in the showers. I couldn’t believe my luck. Usually, it was dangerous to be in the showers with others who hated you. You could get jumped or worse.
Killed.
I was finishing washing my hair with the trash shampoo the jail provided. No scent, no body to it, no volume. It just kept you clean. I was enjoying the water rushing over my head, feeling like all my thoughts were washing away, and I could be normal for just a moment. Not the woman who tried to kill her fiancé's ex-wife. I was about to turn the water off when I felt it, the searing, burning, sharp pain in my left side. Then it was on my right side, and I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my lungs couldn’t take a full breath in, and I was getting lightheaded quickly. The pain was overwhelming, and I tried to scream, but nothing came out. No sounds. Not even a squeak.
Just air.
Over and over again, I was being stabbed, shanked in the shower. Such a cliché way to go. I looked to see who was standing, watching the brutal take down, like I knew they would be. The one person who I knew would benefit the most from my death.
Betty.
I’d done something that pissed her off last month, before being sent to solitary confinement. When I was being taken to the medical ward, she’d made a promise to come for me. It seems she was finally making good on it. I was done for.
Betty and her minions were here and gone before I could even attempt to process what hit me. Only that it was Betty and her minions. I lay on the floor, bleeding and unable to call forhelp, while the water washed away all the blood and evidence of who did this.
This was the end. I knew I was dying. Alone in this shitty, dingy shower. All I wanted was another chance. Another chance to escape and live my life far away from here.
I just wanted another chance. I wanted to live.
T H I R T Y-O N E: Epilogue
